The Awakening
by nancy fan
Summary: When Ned's wife is brutally murdered, he asks for Nancy's help in tracking down her killer.
1. Other People's mothers

**This story is based on this prompt over at livejournal:**

** Nancy Drew, Nancy/Ned. After Ned finds out about Nancy's relationship with Mick, he breaks things off with her and doesn't look back. Ten years later his wife is killed, and Ned begs Nancy for help in finding out what happened to her. Along the way they find there's still chemistry between them. Ned may or may not have children from his marriage and Nancy may or may not be in a relationship, possibly with Frank Hardy. **

**Enjoy!**

She's got to be here, she's got to be here, was Nancy's sole thought as she edged along the grimy grey corridor. Under the cracked and flickering fluorescent lights, she could occasionally make out the random patch of graffiti, between the ominous and sudden spells of dark. Laura, a five-year-old kindergartener, had been abducted almost a month ago from her mother's yard in a northern suburb of Chicago, and despite a massive manhunt by the local police force, the child hadn't been located. After initial suspicion had been lifted from the girl's wayward mother, the investigation had shifted onto a local woman who had been spotted loitering around the child's home at the time and was described as strange and unpleasant by many of the concerned neighbors. The fact she hadn't been seen in recent weeks and that her house had been rather obviously hastily vacated, cast all the more suspicion. Extensive investigation had finally tracked the little girl to this crumbling, dilapidated block of apartments, mostly occupied by vagrants, drug addicts and other people long withdrawn from functioning society. It was, in fact, the perfect place to get by unnoticed, Nancy surmised grimly, as she surveyed her less than salubrious surroundings. The people here had enough problems of their own to deal with to bother poking their noses into anybody else's business.

The building was utterly devoid of the usual hustle and bustle characteristic of such an extensive apartment block. No children ran through the corridors, playing elaborate games of hide and go seek or chasing a rogue ball down stairs. No men stood around trading cheap jokes and humorous tales and certainly no women paused in doorways, exchanging pleasantries and making idle chatter. In fact, many of the apartments were boarded securely up, the previous occupants long gone.

Agent Aaron Thomas motioned silently with his hand, gesturing towards a blue painted door, the paint flaking off to reveal what was once a vivid crimson red. His gun cocked menacingly, the FBI agent paused at the door, motioning at Nancy to stand aside.

"Ma'am, FBI here, clear the door, we're coming in," Aaron called in the characteristically calm, strong voice that defined his personality, before aiming a strategic kick at the door. With a splintering crack, the creaking hinges gave way and the door fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Tensions mounting, Nancy and Aaron swarmed the tiny two-room apartment, their efforts rewarded when they spotted the tiny blonde-haired girl, her green eyes wide with fear as she zoned in on the threateningly pointed guns. The white haired lady protectively clutching the child was softly spoken and had a face far kinder than Nancy expected for such a seemingly menacing character.

"Please, don't shoot," she pleaded, panic-stricken, her eyes darting around the room as though hoping an escape route would miraculously appear.

"Ma'am, nobody here wants to see you get hurt. Let the child go and this will all be over," Nancy reassured the fearful woman gently. Though the woman appeared unarmed, Nancy knew from experience that it was dangerous to be over presumptuous in a situation like this, so she edged cautiously forward, her gun pressed reassuringly close to her hips.

"You care about Laura, don't you?" Nancy commented pointedly, spotting the scattering of rather neglected toys, one-eyed teddy bears and ratty-haired dolls, and the colorful, childish scribblings pinned proudly to the wall. The child had also maintained her endearing plumpness and had obviously been well fed, her appearance immaculate, her golden locks neatly brushed and plaited.

"Laura's better off with me," the distraught woman declared fervently, tightening her hold on the youngster, the child yelping in pain as her tiny wrist was crushed under the force of her grip. "That mother of hers doesn't give a damn about her kids, letting them wander the streets at all hours, not to mention the string of men she has back at the house every night. Believe me, she's far better off here where she's safe and I can mind her."

"I know you want what's best for Laura," Nancy wheedled the older woman, not wishing to antagonize her further. "But the best thing for her is to be with her family. Her sisters and brothers miss her terribly and are crying themselves to sleep every night. Is that what you want?"

"No," she answered stonily, though her expression was softening.

"If there's problems in the family, social services can help, things can be done, but this is not the answer." Nancy finished softly, hoping she was appealing to the woman better senses.

"You're right, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she sobbed openly, her resolve crumbling as she released the little girl. Laura, confused and terrified, ran crying into Nancy's arms.

"Can I go home now?" she asked through her tears, clinging to Nancy as Aaron cuffed the defeated woman.

xxxxx

"You did good in there, Drew," Aaron winked with a grin, leaning in close and whispering discreetly in her ear, conscious of the proximity of the rest of the team. "Looking forward to tonight, I hope."

"Of course," Nancy smiled, enjoying the closeness between them. With work and family commitments, it had been sadly dwindling in recent weeks.

That their relationship was strictly professional was a facade both worked equally hard to maintain. Aaron had just come out of a messy divorce, his marriage fallen victim to his hectic work schedule and long, grueling hours. His complicated home life involved playing sometime dad to his five-year-old son, as well as constant aggressor to his embittered ex-wife who ensured Nancy and Aaron's relationship was anything but easy. On Nancy's part, she feared people's perception of her would change once they found out she was involved with a more senior agent, that they would see her as different and as getting favors from management when the opposite was probably true. It was difficult enough being a woman in such a male-dominated environment without having that complication in the mix. On a more personal level, Nancy also knew her father wouldn't approve of the considerable age gap between them, much less the circumstances of the relationship, and it was far easier to shrug and laugh off prying questions than admit to the truth. So, their involvement was kept deliberately casual, dates infrequent and sporadic, usually confined to the privacy of each other's apartments; and while Bess bemoaned their tentative status, it suited Nancy just fine. Work as an FBI agent didn't suit the restraints and binds a properly functioning relationship would require, with dates cancelled at a moment's notice, vacations indefinitely postponed while a rampant serial killer was tracked down; Aaron understood. An ordinary boyfriend, the kind who would bring her flowers and candy and take her to the movies, most certainly would not.

Collapsing at her desk, Nancy sighed wearily, her aching head resting comfortingly in her hands. She hadn't seen the inside of her apartment in over two days and meals that weren't peeled from a plastic wrapper or poured from a can were a distant memory. Feeling horribly sticky and exhausted, Nancy suddenly yearned for a long, hot bath, perfumed with some of the expensive oils Bess liked. In a rare fit of enthusiasm, Aaron had promised to take her for dinner in some fancy upscale restaurant that boasted a much lauded head chef and an equally long waiting list. Thinking of the night ahead, Nancy smiled; it had been ages since they had spent any real quality time together without case files scattered between them. After spending the previous days suffocating in suits, Nancy quickly decided on a green silk dress, a recent purchase she had yet the luxury of wearing. Her cell phone buzzing angrily on the desk pulled Nancy from her reverie.

"Aaron," she sighed happily, twisting a loose coil of hair around her finger as she greeted her partner. "I was just thinking about tonight. What time do you want to pick me up?" At the answering silence, Nancy's heart sank.

"Nancy, I'm so sorry, but it's Jack," he mumbled apologetically, and Nancy could almost hear the strain in his voice. "He's caught the chicken pox and he's screaming for me. I'm going to have to go be with him. I'm sorry, I really am," he added after a pause, sensing her disappointment.

"It's okay, I understand," Nancy reassured him dejectedly. She did understand, but it was still hard to be constantly treated as an afterthought. "I was just really looking forward to it, that's all."

"I know, I was looking forward to it too," he whispered tenderly. "Look, Nancy, I've really got to go, but I promise we'll do this another time, maybe this weekend."

Faking a half hearted response, barely bothering to keep the disappointment from her voice, Nancy hung up, knowing the raincheck was just another empty promise Aaron couldn't keep and wondering when exactly she had become the type of girl who hung around waiting for her man to come home to her instead of it being the other way around.

When the phone rang again almost immediately, Nancy grabbed it eagerly, her mood darkening as Lindsay's familiar voice bubbled over the phone.

"Nancy, I know you've had a really tough few days and you're about ready to crash but there's a guy down here to see you and he says it's urgent."

"You've got to be kidding me," Nancy sighed in disbelief. "I haven't slept in days and my bed is calling me; believe me, there's nothing more urgent than that."

Though at times she griped and complained bitterly, Nancy knew what she had signed up for when she joined the FBI. The job was all-consuming and try as she might to keep some separation between her work life and her personal life, it was becoming increasingly difficult. Files lay stacked on the coffee table, crime scene photos taped to the fridge door. Even the sanctuary of her bedroom provided no escape; often the distressing details of a case spilled over into her sleep, casting dark shadows on her dreams.

"I know," Lindsay murmured sympathetically. "But he says he knows you, I guess you two used to date or something. He's really cute," she added temptingly.

"Seriously?" Nancy asked, her curiosity piqued. "Who is it?"

"Ned Nickerson," Lindsay confirmed teasingly. "Shall I send him up?"


	2. The way we were

"I just can't believe this," Ned spat out, his words edged in an icy finality Nancy had never heard before. "I can't believe _you_. If you didn't want to be with me, all you had to do was tell me."

"It wasn't like that," Nancy protested, furiously defensive and suddenly wishing she could take the whole summer back, if it meant not having to see the cruel pain on Ned's face.

"It wasn't like what?" Ned demanded, and the room seemed to reverberate with his anger. "Explain it to me, Nancy, please, because from where I'm standing, it's pretty damn clear to me."

Pre-Europe, their relationship had been decidedly rocky. Ned's overprotectiveness and jealousy had reached almost inconceivable levels, and the fiercely independent spark inside Nancy had refused to back down, challenging him at every turn. Dates were prone to fiery, passionate outbursts and arguments, often resulting in Nancy storming out, swearing vehemently she'd never speak to him again. Of course, it would all be resolved in a matter of hours, with long tender kisses and soothing words proving the perfect remedy to smooth over hurt feelings and frayed nerves.

Mick, a handsome Australian she had met in Geneva, was initially the perfect antidote to the stifling, overbearing relationship Nancy had left behind in River Heights. Mick was charming and sweet and, far away in a different country, on a different continent, it was all too easy to shrug off the inevitable consequences of her betrayal. She had been someone else, a girl far removed from the one who had kissed Ned tenderly at the airport, swearing he was the only one.

"It was hardly something I could tell you over the phone," Nancy retorted hotly. She had started this wanting to tell him she was sorry and that she loved him, but she knew there was no way he would listen to her now. Not while he was this angry.

"You couldn't tell me that over the phone, yet you could betray me for the entire summer, pretending you still loved me when really you were with _him_," Ned finished angrily.

"I _do_ still love you, Ned," Nancy protested, the first of the tears streaking down her cheeks.

"If you loved me, you wouldn't keep doing this to me." Ned shrugged resignedly, the fight finally gone out of him. "Nancy, I can't keep doing this. You're breaking my heart."

"We can work this out. I know we can," Nancy pleaded, searching for some clue in his eyes that they'd be okay, that they could work this out, but there was none. His eyes were cold and distant and for the first time in ages, she had no idea what he was thinking.

"We can't," Ned shrugged sadly turning away, and Nancy could almost feel him breaking away from her.

Then he was gone and Nancy knew she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

xxxxx

"Mind if I help myself to a chair?" Ned smiled quizzically. Nancy had been frozen in shock from the moment he walked in, and she could only watch silently as he took a seat at her paper-strewn desk.

"Of course not," Nancy replied when she found her voice, reddening in embarrassment at the look of bemusement on his face. _Get a grip, Drew_, Nancy admonished herself harshly, caught completely off guard by the effect his brown eyes were having on her. It was unsettling how nervous and lightheaded Nancy felt in his presence, a way she hadn't felt around a man in years. At eighteen, being with Ned, enfolded in his love, Nancy had felt invincible, filled with such a naive sense of righteousness that their relationship was hers for the taking, to bend and manipulate as she saw fit. At twenty-eight, Nancy knew differently, and realized that love was something special and precious, a gift to be respected and hallowed.

"You look good, Nancy," Ned added softly, his familiar smile shy and tender.

"And you were always such a good liar, Ned," Nancy countered playfully, running a hand self-consciously over her tired, wrinkled suit, having finally succeeded in pulling herself from her lovestruck daze. Ned looked thinner, Nancy noticed, his dark hair a touch longer, but he still possessed the captivating good looks that had invited many a schoolgirl crush in his teenage years.

After so much time spent apart, their separation so bitter and so final, Nancy hardly knew what to say. She had of course attended Caroline's funeral but Ned, so lost and desolate in his grief, had barely acknowledged her. Reluctant to intrude, Nancy had stayed purposefully away, unsure if her presence was appropriate, much less wanted.

"How are you doing?" Nancy inquired gently, suddenly ashamed of her distant behavior. "I wanted to be there for you, but I wasn't sure you wanted to see me after everything that happened and all," she explained, shamefaced, the words trailing away.

"Hey, it's okay. I understand," Ned reassured her gently with a smile that made Nancy feel weak at the knees, then guilty for even harboring such thoughts towards a man still so obviously mourning his wife.

"I've been doing okay. It gets easier, I guess," he shrugged, though he sounded doubtful.

"And Rebecca?" Nancy cut gently in.

"She misses her mom," Ned acknowledged sadly. "But she's started preschool and that's helped keep her mind off it, so much."

"Well, that's something, at least," Nancy shrugged sympathetically.

"Actually, Nancy, that's why I'm here," Ned informed her nervously, sitting up rigidly in his chair.

"Oh?" Nancy remarked curiously, the professional side of her brain clicking in immediately, sensing what Ned was going to ask of her.

"I guess you know that Caroline's killer was never found," Ned began, gazing inquisitively at Nancy.

"I'm sorry, it must be so hard for you," Nancy sympathized. She couldn't remember her own mother's death in a horrific car crash when she was young, but at least Carson had been able to find closure, to grieve and move on. Caroline's death had been even more senseless, and Nancy knew that until justice was served and her killer was found, Ned wouldn't be able to move on. She couldn't even begin to imagine how horribly frustrated and betrayed he must feel.

"It's been almost a year and there's been nothing," Ned sighed despairingly. "They've arrested a few suspects, but nobody was ever charged, and now they're talking about scaling down the inquiry. They say they haven't given up but I know it's bullshit," he proclaimed angrily, his agitation growing.

"Ned, I'm sure they haven't given up, but funding is pretty limited," Nancy explained as gently as she could, immediately regretting the casual way the words rolled off her tongue. Working in the FBI, death and violence had become routine, expected, and dare Nancy say it, normal. Nothing shocked Nancy anymore, and that desensitivity scared her sometimes.

"Nancy, this is my wife we're talking about, not just some random statistic," Ned shot back, his words heavy with emotion. "How can I just stand back knowing he's out there somewhere? One day Rebecca will want to know what happened to her mom and how can I tell her she was shot to death in broad daylight but her murderer was never caught?"

"I don't know," Nancy sighed, tears prickling her eyes at seeing the distress on the face she'd once known so well. She wanted to reach out and comfort him but held back, afraid of what she'd say or do if she allowed herself to get too close to him, and more afraid of what his response might be.

"You've got to help me, Nancy, please," Ned said earnestly. "You're my last hope. Help me get my life back."

"Okay," Nancy quickly agreed, against her better judgement. "There's a bar down the street. I don't know about you but I'm dying for a drink. We can talk about it there."

xxxxx

The bar was a dark, dusty place, long overdue for a makeover, but it was comfortable and familiar in a way that the newly renovated, more hip and popular bars weren't. Here she could sit back and actually listen to her date, instead of shouting over the laughter and babble of the college students who descended in hordes every weekend. Sinking into the comforting creakiness of the worn leather couch, Nancy yawned wearily, the exertions of the previous days finally catching up with her.

"Don't mind me," Nancy smiled, waving away Ned's concerned glance. "It's just been a long couple of days. It's nothing a hot bath and a few hours of sleep won't fix," she added reassuringly, taking a delicate sip from her glass of red wine.

"Now you're just making me feel bad," Ned complained, though the smile stayed on his face all the same.

"Don't," Nancy ordered mildly, leaning in closer to Ned, a playful grin on her face. "How many times did I keep you out all night? So let's just call us even."

"We're hardly even," Ned protested jokingly, taking a long sip from his bottle of beer. "Hey, do you remember the time we broke into the country club in Mapleton?"

"Yeah," Nancy quickly agreed, a smile spreading across her face. "God. We were so close to being caught by that asshole of a detective."

"And we spent the rest of the night making out, if I remember correctly," Ned broke in, laughing. For a moment it was like they had stepped back in time and settled into their old routine, all smiles and loaded glances, each knowing what the other was going to say. She had to admit it was great to be with Ned again, and Nancy was suddenly struck with uncertainty, unsure whether their quick rapport was the comforting happiness of being reunited with an old friend or the fiery spark of longing for her ex lover, and it scared the hell out of her. Expert at distancing herself from unwanted emotions, Nancy switched immediately into professional mode and began questioning Ned gently on the circumstances of his wife's death.

"You say they arrested a couple of suspects. Do you have any information on these people?' Nancy asked carefully, gazing at Ned in concern.

"None, really," Ned admitted with a sigh. "It wasn't long after Caroline's death and I was a mess. I could barely take care of Rebecca and myself, much less worry about how the police investigation was going."

"What did the police say was the cause of death?" Nancy asked hesitantly, giving Ned a sympathetic glance.

"Massive internal damage due to a gunshot wound to the chest," Ned confirmed quietly, taking a long swig from his bottle of beer.

"God, that's awful, Ned," Nancy sighed, giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

After their messy breakup, Nancy had rather jealously bemoaned the fact that Ned had purposefully chosen a girlfriend who was Nancy's polar opposite in every way. Caroline's dark hair fell in ringlets, not poker straight red-blonde tresses; her eyes were a dark brown, almost mirroring Ned's own. What Nancy found most galling was Caroline's preference of a day of shopping and hanging out with friends to Nancy's own high-octane lifestyle. After he had spent so many years with her, Nancy couldn't understand how Ned could stand it, and the day she had found out about Caroline's brutal murder, she had found it tragically ironic that Ned had spent years worrying about Nancy's career and safety, had settled down with the safest, most practical and content girl he could, and then Caroline had been the one to fall prey to a crazed murderer.

"What's the name of the lead investigator?" Nancy asked after a pause, giving Ned a chance to regain his composure.

"A Detective Alan Johnson," Ned offered, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Here, I'll give him a call for you, let him know you'll be helping out. He's actually a pretty good guy."

"No, I'll have to be a lot more subtle than that," Nancy smiled, shaking her head. If the police got wind she was from the FBI, she'd be locked out of that information for good. "You have no idea how awful the politics are," she explained, answering the quizzical look on Ned's face.

"You mean like when you were just an amateur?" he drawled, draining the last of his beer. "What are you going to do then?"

"Don't worry, I'll figure something out," Nancy reassured him pensively, a plan forming in her head. "Look, I'm actually off tomorrow, if you want to meet up. At least, I'm supposed to be," she shrugged hopefully. "I kind of have a plan."

"Well what is it?" Ned demanded excitedly, encouraged by her enthusiasm.

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow," Nancy replied, wagging her finger playfully. "I still need to iron some kinks out."

"Okay, sure, I'd love to get together tomorrow," Ned informed her with a smile. "I'm on vacation at the moment and after I take Rebecca to preschool, I'm pretty much free for the whole afternoon."

"Sounds good," Nancy smiled, their conversation suddenly interrupted by her phone.

Excusing herself and walking to a quiet corner of the bar, Nancy was greeted by Aaron's familiar voice. "Hey, Nancy, it's me," he spoke softly and Nancy smiled, hearing Jack's childish mumblings in the background urging his father to finish reading him a story. "I can't get away tonight. Grace has some girls' night out thing planned and Jack's too sick to leave with the babysitter. I'm really sorry," he added in a heartfelt tone that let Nancy know how much he was missing her.

"It's okay, Aaron," she replied, whispering some sort of loving reply before hanging up, suddenly feeling strangely elated at the possibilities the night could bring.


	3. The Perfect Couple

Kicking off her heels, Nancy plodded wearily through the dark apartment, flicking on a few lights for comfort before collapsing gratefully on the couch. After days of lying vacant, the apartment was cold and uninviting, the white painted walls bare and sterile, unbroken by paintings or artwork. Apart from a few photographs, her apartment was utterly devoid of any sign of human life. Her place was practical in every sense of the word, its proximity to work the best feature, but Nancy had never really seen the small apartment as home; she supposed that subconsciously, neglecting to personalize the space was her own form of silent protest.

Dizzy and lightheaded from the alcohol, Nancy reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it comfortingly around her, her mind still reeling from the events of the day. Seeing Ned had confused Nancy more than she'd like to admit. Though she knew her relationship with Aaron was complicated at times, Nancy had always thought she was satisfied with the half-life they shared. Now she felt strangely cheated, reminded how it felt to be in Ned's presence, and wondered if she'd ever be that happy again. Pouring a glass of wine, Nancy took a furious gulp, determined to drown the conflicting emotions and focus her mind on the case. A quick glance at her watch confirmed that it was long after twelve, but Nancy hastily dialed her father's number regardless, his assistance crucial to her slowly unfolding plan.

"Hey, Dad," Nancy greeted her father warmly, tucking her bare feet under the warmth of the blanket and settling herself comfortably against a stack of cushions. "I'm sorry to be calling so late. I hope I didn't wake you," she added, worriedly.

"It's okay, honey, I'm still up," he reassured her firmly, and Nancy smiled, realizing she missed spending time with her father and vowing to make a trip home at the weekend. "I took Jen out for dinner and we're only just in the door," he finished, referring to Jennifer Carroll, a senior partner at the law firm who had been dating Carson for over a year.

"Did you two have a good night?" Nancy inquired politely, a smile on her face as she twisted a loose strand of hair around her finger. Nancy had met Jennifer on a number of occasions and had been impressed by the smart, quick-witted humor of the woman. As a child, Nancy had been possessive of her father's attention and often disapproved of his dating choices but now, as an adult, she knew Jennifer was good for Carson and Nancy was glad her father had finally found happiness.

"It was wonderful," her father replied mildly, and Nancy could hear him shuffling though papers and files. "The meal was delicious. The next time you come down we'll have to go there."

Giving an enthusiastic response, Nancy settled into a comfortable discussion with her father, the pair chatting idly about work, Carson's thriving law practice and various goings on in the news.

"Dad, actually, the reason I called was to ask if you could do a massive favor for your favorite daughter."

"You mean _only_ daughter," Carson amended, jokingly .

"Whatever." Nancy smiled, taking a tentative sip from the abandoned glass of wine. "What I need is kind of strange," she added warningly.

"Nancy, nothing you say could surprise me anymore," her father chuckled affectionately, well accustomed to his daughter's unusual requests.

"Well, Ned paid me a visit at work today," Nancy began haltingly, fidgeting nervously with a loose thread on the blanket.

"That's a name I haven't heard in a while," her father commented pointedly. "How's he holding up since Caroline's death?" he added immediately, his voice tinged in concern.

"That's the thing, he wants me to look into it for her. The police have scaled down their investigation and he's worried if he doesn't do something now, the whole thing will be forgotten about and left to rot in some filing cabinet."

"Okay, so what do you want me to do?" Carson asked curiously.

"I need a meeting with one of the lead detectives on the case," Nancy began, outlining the details of her plan. "Work your magic, do whatever it is you do but I need to have that meeting tomorrow. They can't know it's me though," she added warningly. "Or, I suppose that the meeting is coming from you in case they make the connection."

"I'll do my best, honey," her father promised her lovingly. "Now quit worrying and get to bed. I'll call you about it in the morning."

"Thanks, Dad," Nancy replied warmly, suddenly relishing the prospect of a night's sleep in her own bed.

xxxxx

Taking a long sip of her usual morning coffee, Nancy glanced curiously at Ned. While Nancy felt gloriously refreshed and revitalized after a full night's sleep, Ned looked utterly exhausted; hence the reason Nancy had coaxed him into grabbing some coffee with her.

"It's Rebecca," he offered as an explanation, wiping a hand wearily across his face. "When I got home last night, she had a stomachache. I think I got about an hour of sleep," he concluded sheepishly. "Of course this morning, she bounces out of bed, full of the joy of life while I have to drink a gallon of coffee just to keep my eyes open. Kids," he grumbled good-naturedly, taking a bite from his croissant.

"Wouldn't know," Nancy responded cheerfully. Unlike Bess, who had been naming her future children from the age of nine, Nancy had never really harbored much maternal instinct. While she enjoyed spending time with Jack, the interaction never sparked any desire in her to have children of her own. "I'd love to meet Rebecca sometime, though, she sounds really sweet," Nancy smiled, curious as to Ned's reaction.

"Sure," Ned replied non-committally. "Maybe when all this is over we could do something together."

Sensing Ned's discomfort, Nancy changed the subject, swiftly moving to more neutral matters like work and football before Nancy caught Ned staring at her curiously. "What?" she demanded, perplexed.

"Nothing, it's just you look very…"

"Pink," Nancy supplied helpfully as his words trailed off.

"I was going to say young, but pink works as well," he joked, laughing at the mock pained expression on her face.

Her pink dress ridiculously short and her long hair hanging in loose waves around her shoulders, Nancy knew she looked young and was sure she could pass as a college student without any trouble. Ample pink blush and an oversized book bag completed the look. "It's part of my cover," she revealed enthusiastically, flashing him a brilliant smile. "And I can't believe you only noticed now, Nickerson," she pouted, giving him a friendly shove.

"Hey, what can I say? I've only had an hour's sleep," he muttered as means of defense, ducking to avoid her wrath. "You look like you just walked out of the Theta house, seriously," he reassured her, shaking his head in amusement. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you went to some college party last night and wandered out in somebody else's clothes."

"It's Jessica," Nancy corrected him, slicking on a fresh coat of lip gloss. "And I'll pretend I didn't hear that second bit," she glared at him jokingly.

"You're something else," he laughed, draining the end of his coffee. "The cops won't know what hit them when you walk into the station."

"That's the plan, anyway," Nancy replied brightly. "I only hope it works."

xxxxx

Smoothing down her expensively cut pink dress, the thin fabric clinging flatteringly to her curves and the short skirt purposefully drawing attention to her long, tanned legs, Nancy tentatively wandered over to Detective Miller's desk, hoping the nervousness and agitation plaguing her since early morning wasn't too obvious. It had been years since she'd engaged in the kind of covert operations that had been commonplace in her work as an amateur detective, and Nancy feared she'd lost much of the daring audacity necessary to accomplishing the task.

"Detective Miller?" Nancy inquired politely, positioning herself opposite his paper-strewn desk, noticing with some satisfaction the way his pale green eyes eagerly drank in her slender curves.

"Depends who's asking," he drawled casually, a cocky grin on his face as he leaned back lazily in his chair.

Ever prepared, Nancy had done her homework, had asked around and knew the young detective had worked Caroline's case and was familiar with the finer points of the investigation. More importantly and crucial to her plan, the detective was rumoured to be arrogant and a bit of a player, and Nancy hoped Detective Miller would more likely fall prey to the charms of a young, beautiful woman than an older, more experienced detective.

"Hi, I'm Jessica," Nancy introduced herself smoothly, extending a perfectly manicured hand and dazzling him with what she hoped was an inviting, flirtatious smile.

"And what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" he countered playfully, pulling out a chair and patting it invitingly beside him.

"I'm actually studying at Northwestern," Nancy beamed, taking a seat beside Detective Miller, not missing the way his eyes traveled up to the hem of her too-short skirt. "And we have this assignment to do for my criminology class and if I don't get at least a B minus, I'm going to totally flunk," Nancy sighed dismally, praying she wasn't overdoing the ditzy blonde act. "I was hoping I could get a little help, you know, experience at first hand the work the police do on a daily basis, and I was told you were the best person to ask, so here I am," she finished, tossing her red-blonde hair flirtily over her shoulder, a perky, enthusiastic smile on her face.

"Glad to be of service, ma'am," he replied, saluting her jokingly before scooting in a little closer, his arm purposely brushing against her bare skin. "How exactly can I help?"

"Well, actually it would be really interesting to hear about some of the cases you've worked on, maybe one of the more high profile ones," she suggested eagerly, elaborately pulling a pad of paper out of her oversized shoulder bag, her sparkly, feather-topped pen poised for writing.

"Okay," he smiled in agreement, and although he hid it well, Nancy could detect the amusement in his eyes and instantly knew what he thought of her, how he saw her. In a sense, it fuelled Nancy's confidence and made her feel strangely powerful and triumphant to know that while the detective saw her as a hapless, clueless girl, scribbling seemingly innocent doodles on her colorful pad, she would in fact secretly devour every scrap of information she could obtain, sear names and facts onto her brain, while all the time looking for an opportunity to get access to the case files. The man was an asshole and Nancy didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt in using him to further her own ends. "Is there any case in particular you want to hear about?" he asked with raised eyebrows, casting her a sweeping, lecherous glance before turning his attention to the computer, his fingers deftly running over the keys.

"Well," her brow furrowed in concentration, momentarily loosening her grip on the pen. "I've always been interested in the Nickerson case, you know that case last year where that young mother was shot," she prompted him, crossing her long, tanned legs, her foot brushing against the leg of his pants.

Inhaling a sharp intake of breath, the detective turned to Nancy with increased interest, an appraising look in his eyes. "Sure, I remember that case. It was a tough one," he added after a thoughtful pause, that to Nancy didn't seem possible from such a cold, unfeeling guy. "I should have the case files here," he offered after a pause, typing in a password, the much-wanted files flashing up onto the screen. "We could over them, later, _together," _the detective winked, meaningfully, his hand straying dangerously close to her bare knee.

"That would be great," Nancy lied through clenched teeth, his response thankfully lost as the gruff voice of a fellow police detective boomed across the room.

"Hey, Miller, quit flirting with the kid and get your ass in here."

Nancy could hear vague mutterings about a multiple stabbing incident across town and that all available officers were requested to attend the scene. "Hey, Jessica, I've got to go," he apologized with a sheepish grin, evidently embarrassed by his colleague's keen observation. "The boss needs me across town, there's been a stabbing, but wait here if you want and we can finish this later," the detective urged her with a leering wink that made Nancy believe she'd be expected to part with a lot more than a thank you and a smile to be privy to any of his precious case files. "I shouldn't be long."

"Will do," Nancy smiled cheerfully, withdrawing a shamelessly girly magazine and a pink iPod from her bag and placing them deliberately on his desk, flicking happily through the pages to avert suspicion. Watching his retreating form, Nancy could barely contain her glee. She had expected to have to flirt and charm her way into getting every minute snippet of information, and hadn't dared hope for a second that an opportunity like this would present itself.

Gazing furtively around, Nancy noticed the officers were distracted, busy dealing with drunks and sullen teens, the police station hopelessly understaffed in the wake of the stabbing incident. Without hesitation she slid a memory stick into the computer, watching with satisfaction as the files downloaded swiftly. Slinging her bag onto her shoulder, Nancy slid undetected from the chaos, her plan slotting neatly into place.

xxxxx

The restaurant was alive with activity when Nancy ducked in the door guiltily, already hopelessly late, having played victim to the notorious Chicago traffic. Friends sat around giggling and gossiping over sweet frothy cocktails and plates piled high with food, savoring the sweet sense of freedom Friday evening brought. Spotting Bess and George, Nancy swept over to her friends' table and sat opposite the cousins, an apologetic smile on her face.

"I'm so sorry for being late. Traffic was hell," she explained with a sigh of exasperation, picking up a menu and studying it eagerly. The girls were enjoying a rare dinner date, conflicting work schedules and George's manic workout routine often thwarting much anticipated plans.

"What's up with the whole Miss Teen USA get-up?" George remarked curiously, staring in disbelief at Nancy's appearance.

"Well, I think you look really cute, Nancy," Bess complimented her friend, enclosing her in a loose hug. "That shade of pink really is your color," she nodded approvingly, before turning her attention to the elaborate spread of brightly frosted cakes housed invitingly in a glass display cabinet. "That strawberry tart looks amazing," she gushed, casting the cake a longing glance before looking despondently at the salad selection on the menu. "I suppose one slice wouldn't totally ruin my diet," she suddenly decided, her ever present weight loss plan put temporarily on hold.

"There must be at least a thousand calories in one slice, Bess," George lectured her cousin firmly, well accustomed to Bess's faddy eating. "Not to mention the cream," she scoffed disdainfully, before turning her attention back to Nancy. "Come on, Nancy, spill. You don't really expect us to believe that you chose that slutty pink dress for our benefit, do you?

"You got me," Nancy admitted, pausing as the waitress took their orders. "I was undercover today and the dress was my disguise. I would have gone home to change but time was not my friend, so here I am," she smiled sheepishly. "And looking like a bit of a slut, it would appear," she finished, feigning a hurt, wounded look.

"It's not that bad," George reassured her unconvincingly, taking a long drink from her glass of wine. "It's just I think I prefer you when you don't look like a Barbie doll or Wendy Harriman, for that matter."

"Point taken," Nancy smiled, her eyes lighting up as a steaming plate of spaghetti was placed before her.

"I thought you were done with all that undercover work since joining the FBI," Bess remarked curiously, picking guiltily from the bread basket on the table.

"Yeah, I am," Nancy admitted, taking a bite of her spaghetti to detract from her reddening cheeks. "It's actually got nothing to do with work. Ned has asked me to Caroline's death for him," she explained, bracing herself for her friends' reaction.

"What? You're joking, right?" Bess managed after a moment's pause, her mouth agape with shock.

"No," Nancy shrugged a little too casually. "He came over yesterday."

"God, it must have been so awkward," Bess theorized idly. "I mean, I would die if I had to see James again and we were only going out for a couple of months and had none of the baggage you two have," her words trailing away as she noticed the disbelieving look George was shooting her way.

"No, it was actually okay, except this terribly embarrassing moment," Nancy confided in the girls, explaining her reaction when Ned initially walked in the door. "After I got over myself, things were fine. We actually ended up going out for a drink and things were just like old times. Don't kill me, you guys," Nancy paused, cringing as she braced herself for her friends' reaction. "But I think I still like him."

"No, Nancy, no. This is a bad idea, a really bad idea," Bess protested, turning to George for confirmation. "You just said he's still a mess, and his wife has been dead barely a year. By all means help him find his wife's killer but leave it at that," her friend implored.

"Bess is right, Nancy," George said gently. "You get involved with Ned and Ned's not going to be the only one with a broken heart. Anyway, I thought you were all about Aaron," she commented pointedly, looking at Nancy with interest.

"Things are only okay, to be honest," Nancy shrugged, explaining to her friends the sense of disconnect and loneliness she had been feeling recently in the relationship. "I don't think he ever intends to make things serious between us," she added dismally.

"I thought that's what you wanted," Bess commented curiously.

"So did I," Nancy shrugged sadly. "Apparently, I was wrong."

xxxxx

"Good to see you, Nancy," Aaron greeted her warily, maintaining a distance between them as if sensing her discontent. "I really am sorry about the other night," he apologized fervently, taking her coat and ushering her into the dining room, Jack's few scattered toys jarring comically with the minimalist perfection of the space.

"It's okay," Nancy smiled, her resolve weakening as he handed her a delicate bouquet of flowers, their sweet fragrance wafting pleasantly around the room. "Thank you for the flowers, they're gorgeous," she assured him with a quick hug. "And don't worry about the other night, it wasn't your fault. How's Jack doing?"

"He's doing much better. In fact, the doctor thinks he should be back to school by Monday," Aaron replied distractedly, busying himself with uncorking a bottle of red wine and pouring the ruby-red liquid into tall, crystal glasses. "Have I told you how beautiful you look?" he added shyly, handing her a drink.

"No, but thank you," Nancy replied, her cheeks flushing becomingly at the compliment.

The meal was a lavish affair composed of intricate meat and vegetable dishes, followed by an impossibly perfect chocolate soufflé which Nancy presumed was Aaron's way of apologising. "God, that was amazing, Aaron," Nancy complimented him, dabbing delicately at her mouth with her napkin. "I never knew you were such a good cook."

"Well, I might have had a little help," Aaron admitted sheepishly, holding his hands up. "I actually ordered the food from the restaurant we were supposed to go to the other night and since we probably won't get a table there again for at least another year, I thought you could at least get to sample the food, albeit in less salubrious surroundings and with less glamorous company,"

"And here I was thinking you were just trying to pass the food off as your own," Nancy accused him jokingly, a teasing smile playing on her face. In truth, the gesture touched her deeply and Nancy couldn't help but smile, marvelling at his thoughtfulness. "God, you can be so sweet sometimes."

"I try," he replied, a grin flashing quickly across his face before his expression turned suddenly serious. "Nancy, I am so sorry about the other night, about everything that's been happening, really," he murmured contritely, taking her hand in his.

"It's okay, really," Nancy reassured him, flashing him a grateful smile as he topped up her glass of wine.

"No, it's not. You deserve better than this and I'm going to make it up to you, starting now," he whispered gently, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. "I've missed you the last few nights and it got me thinking. I need to put more effort into our relationship. It deserves it," he finished softly.

Hearing the words "effort" and "relationship" together in the same sentence, Nancy cringed inwardly. Though she appreciated the thought behind the words, his clumsy wording confirmed what Nancy had always suspected; their relationship was work to him.

"I think it's time we told people about us," he continued, and Nancy's heart almost stopped at hearing the words. "My divorce has been finalized for months now and we can't keep doing this," he murmured, regarding Nancy's expression carefully.

"I'm not sure we're ready for that, Aaron," Nancy informed him gently, not wanting to hurt his feelings but unwilling to entertain the notion of making their relationship public knowledge. "The guys at work will give me a hard time and I don't think I can deal with that at the moment."

"You'll be fine," he responded dismissively, taking a long drink of wine. "They hassle you at all, you can come to me."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about, Aaron," Nancy replied heatedly, irritated at his casual disregard for her feelings. "How's it going to look if I go running to you every time someone gives me grief?"

"All I'm asking you is to think about it," he shot back angrily, the color rising in his cheeks. "I thought you'd be happy about this."

"I am," Nancy reassured him in a calmer voice, struggling to keep her fiery temper under check. "And all I'm asking you is to give me a little more time. Can you do that?"

"I suppose," he replied in a tight voice, the good mood of the evening suddenly evaporated to thin air.


	4. You Think You Know Somebody

**Six Months Later:**

Her eyes glazed over with exhaustion, Nancy surveyed the dismal state of her apartment; discarded mugs and takeout cartons littered the coffee table, and dishes and cutlery lingered unwashed in the sink. Work was cruel and unrelenting; Chicago held in the grip of a bloody serial killer and the few meager hours Nancy managed to snatch between work and sleep were spent poring over Caroline's case files and pursuing dubious leads and witnesses. This double life Nancy had eked out for herself was all-consuming, and Nancy feared her personal life, which she had never been prioritized to begin with, was suffering terribly. Despite fervent promises and assurances, she hadn't paid her father a visit in weeks and though both Bess and George swore they understood, their silent disappointment in yet another canceled dinner date or trip to the movies, spoke volumes.

Blowing gently on her steaming mug of hot chocolate, brewed in her last clean cup in the entire apartment, Nancy forced her attention back to her laptop, sighing as the single words blurred into one unintelligible block. Hours spent staring at the screen had rendered her brain a tangled web of confusion, incapable of intelligible thought or reason, and as much as it galled and frustrated Nancy to admit it, the case was going nowhere. Try as she might, Nancy couldn't fault the police investigation; they had done a thorough, commendable job and the few witnesses she could track down were wary and reluctant about coming forward, uncomfortable with their faded, sketchy memories of the shooting. Caroline's friends had been more than willing to speak to Nancy, but ultimately the exercise proved fruitless and bore nothing concrete that could aid her in the investigation. On Ned's part, the circumstances of his wife's death and the weeks preceding it had disintegrated into a vast, dark void and the few memories he'd clung to could not be relied upon, much less trusted.

Pulling the worn blanket tightly around her gooseflesh-pimpled skin, Nancy decided to give the file another once over, scrolling through the reams of information when a name nestled inconspicuously between a long list of potential witnesses suddenly caught her eye. For a second, Nancy determined it had to be a mistake, a trick of the eye, a mirage much like those seen by some unfortunate traveler lost in the desert, deprived of water for days, but no. It was there in bold letters, a detail so small, so utterly obscure that for a second, it had almost escaped her attention; but now the significance of her find was so glaringly obvious, it was almost impossible for her to imagine how it hadn't been found before.

xxxxx

Weeks of investigation and months of sleepless nights had finally brought Nancy to this house, an impeccable red-bricked, almost Victorian building, unique among the sprawling, gaudy mansions in the vicinity. The house was undoubtedly expensive, the address being in one of the wealthier areas of Chicago, the home of the nouveau riche. Here cars tended toward the luxurious and dogs tended toward the miniature, comically clad in bright, vulgar outfits echoing the dress of their equally pampered owners. Indulging herself in a sip of her much anticipated morning coffee, Nancy gazed in quiet fascination at the house, realizing that everything about it jarred with her expectations of what a family home should look like. No bikes lay abandoned on the grass, no balls or tennis rackets lay idly around, waiting impatiently for an owner to come and pick it up. The lawn was meticulous and ordered, a spectacular fusion of color and creativity, the kind of space to be aesthetically appreciated and enjoyed but hardly appropriate for a boisterous family of five. Even the car was wrong, the boxy sports car seemingly at odds with the perfect father image he had seemed so eager to project.

Lowering her styrofoam cup, Nancy watched curiously as a man emerged from the house with a confident swagger, raking his blonde hair off his classically handsome face. Expensively dressed, a briefcase swinging from his hand, he was the epitome of a successful businessman, rising to the top without a care of the world. As his flashy sports car sped down the street and out of sight, Nancy sighed. Four hours sleep and a cup of coffee and she was due to start interviewing a witness in less than twenty minutes.

xxxxx

"Hey, Nan, it's great to see you," Ned greeted her with a smile before tentatively reaching out and enclosing her in a loose hug. "Sorry, old habit, I guess," he mumbled sheepishly, pulling away in embarrassment as he noticed the flush creep across her face.

"It's okay," Nancy replied a little too sharply, busying herself with showing him into her hastily tidied sitting room to distract from her growing unease. Magazines and books had been secreted under cushions and chairs, clothes had been pushed into the already cramped confines of her wardrobe, and the facade of orderliness she had created was a hair's breath from tumbling down.

Nancy had not seen Ned in weeks; their interaction had been confined solely to sporadic phone calls and hastily typed emails. Nancy told herself it was due to work restraints, to the demands Caroline's case had placed on her time, but deep down she knew she had limited contact in the hopes her infatuation and longing for her ex-boyfriend would lessen and diminish with distance put forcibly between them. But now, seeing him, being with him after the long weeks of separation, Nancy realized her efforts had been entirely unsuccessful and, if anything, she felt even more conflicted and confused than before.

"I like the apartment," Ned said enthusiastically, taking a seat on the worn leather couch beside her. "You never told me you moved," he remarked curiously.

"Oh, I haven't," Nancy replied, perplexed, pulling her long legs onto the couch and tucking her bare feet underneath her. "Why would you say that?"

"Nothing," Ned replied awkwardly, flicking through one of the books scattered on the coffee table to avoid eye contact. "It's just very bare, that's all," he shrugged.

"Oh, that," Nancy smiled dismissively, forgetting at times how spartan her living arrangements must appear to people with normal, functioning lives. "I just haven't got around to it; you know how much I detest any shopping that doesn't involve shoes or clothes," she grumbled good-naturedly, her stomach rumbling in anticipation as the smell of garlic drifted into the room. "Would you like some pasta, Nickerson?" she offered him graciously, hopping off the couch in the direction of the kitchen.

"You cooked for me?" he murmured in surprise, his brown eyes softening as they met Nancy's.

"No, I cooked for me," Nancy admitted with a smile, inwardly touched by the appreciative look on his face. "But you're welcome to some, if you want. I wouldn't be so enthusiastic, though, if I were you," she added warningly, as she retreated into the kitchen. "Everyone runs at the mere mention of my cooking, even my dad, and that's saying something," she added, her blue eyes widening for emphasis. "You sure you still want some?"

"I'll risk it," Ned replied teasingly, following her into the cramped kitchen, and something in the tone of his voice made Nancy's heart almost stop.

Feeling a suddenly strong urge for alcohol, Nancy uncorked a bottle of red wine, deftly pouring it into tall, ill-matched glasses and offering one to Ned.

"How's work going anyway, Nan?" Ned inquired, taking a curious bite of the rich pasta dish still bubbling temptingly in the pot. "Are you involved with that serial killer case I've been reading about so much in the papers?"

"You know I can't discuss a case with you, Ned," Nancy replied distractedly, noisily rummaging through a drawer for a presentable set of cutlery.

"So you are," Ned exclaimed pointedly, spooning some of the pasta onto his plate. "I knew it. It sounds kind of dangerous, though," he added after a pause, peering curiously at his former girlfriend. "I've read some of the news stories, and the attacks sound incredibly brutal. Doesn't it scare you?"

"Sometimes," Nancy agreed, taking a long drink of her wine. "When I first started working at the FBI, I used to turn on every light in the apartment and check every room when I got home at night, but I got used to it," Nancy shrugged indifferently, sprinkling some grated parmesan onto her food before passing the plastic container to Ned.

Their steaming plates of food balanced precariously on laps and knees, Ned turned to Nancy expectantly, a wary look on his face. "We haven't seen each other in weeks and all of a sudden you need to see me urgently. You've found something, haven't you?" he demanded anxiously.

"I have," Nancy admitted quietly, tentatively raising her blue eyes to meet his. "But I don't want you to get to your hopes up," she added warningly, swiftly withdrawing a collection of photographs and documents from her briefcase. Sliding a black and white photograph from the file, Nancy held it in front of Ned. "Do you recognize this man?" she asked curiously.

"Sure," he replied after a moment's pause, seemingly unperturbed by the glossy image. "That's Brian Smith, he used to work with Caroline at the gallery. Why, do you want to know that? Surely you don't suspect him, do you?" he asked almost jokingly, the expression on his face changing when Nancy didn't reply.

"Ned, do you know how many people live in Chicago?" Nancy asked him, changing tack.

"Two, two and a half million people, I guess," he shrugged uncertainly.

"Close," Nancy smiled, taking a sip of her iced water. "It's actually just under three million."

"Okay," Ned retorted in an exasperated voice, obviously confused. "Where's this going, Nancy?"

"What if I told you Brian Smith was found in the vicinity of the crime scene about ten minutes after the shooting?" Nancy continued, pausing to let the significance of the information sink in.

"Seriously?" Ned replied, his face whitening in shock at the implication of Nancy's words. "How do I not know this?"

"His story checked out," Nancy shrugged, gazing worriedly at the shocked, almost dazed expression on Ned's face. "He was with a friend buying some video games for his kid, it's all in the file. He was never seriously considered as a suspect but it really got me thinking me thinking, that's all. I mean, what are the chances?"

"The chances of what?" Ned demanded in utter bewilderment.

"The chances of him being there when Caroline was shot," Nancy replied impatiently, the words tripping over each other in her eagerness to get her point across. "I mean, how many people worked with Caroline at the gallery? Ten? Twelve?" she speculated wildly.

"It was actually eight," Ned amended quickly, pushing the cold remains of his pasta distractedly around the plate, his gaze centered on Nancy.

"So out of the eight people who worked with Caroline, one of them just happened to be in the area at the exact time the shooting takes place. It just doesn't make sense, Ned."

"Brian is a good guy, he wouldn't do this," Ned scoffed openly, casting a disparaging look in her direction. "He's got kids, a wife, there's no way he could possibly responsible for the shooting. Besides, he was a friend of Caroline's."

"Doesn't matter," Nancy argued firmly, topping up their glasses of wine. "Anyway, how do you know he has kids? Have you met them or something?"

"No, but he's always talking about them," Ned replied, a touch defensively. "And I've seen photographs, vacation pictures, that sort of thing."

"Ned, I've been trailing the guy for the last few days. There are no kids," Nancy informed him in a carefully composed tone.

"What?" Ned snorted disbelievingly, taking a furious gulp of his wine. "No. You've got to be wrong, Nancy."

"I know, I couldn't believe it myself at first," Nancy admitted, her blue eyes widening for emphasis. "But something about the house was wrong. It was too perfect; there were no toys or bikes lying around and I never saw anyone other than Brian leave or enter the house, so I began to get suspicious and got one of the guys at work to look him up. Turns out the guy was never married and has never had any kids."

"Any other previous convictions?" Ned demanded impatiently,

"A few tickets for speeding, unpaid parking fines, the usual," Nancy shrugged dismissively. "Nothing that was in anyway incriminating, but there's just something about this guy, Ned. I can't put my finger on it but there's just something about him. I have got to find out more."

"And how exactly are you going to do that, Nancy?" Ned's voice echoed worriedly as he pushed the plate of pasta away. Abandoned, the food had turned cold and unappetizing, the tomato sauce congealed into a sticky red mess.

"While Brian's at work tomorrow, I'm going to pay his house a visit. You know, see if I can find something."

"You mean break in," Ned corrected her, his emphasis on the words letting Nancy know he was not pleased with her plan.

"You say breaking in, I say calling on an old friend and just making myself at home when he happens not to be there," Nancy joked lightly, the conversation strangely reminiscent of times past when Ned used to disapprove so vehemently of the danger her career placed her in. "Don't worry, Ned, I'll be fine," Nancy reassured him, sensing his anxiousness. "The man is a control freak, a total slave to his routine. I would die of shock if he deviated from it by even a minute," she finished, flashing him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Then I'm coming with you," Ned said insistently, his arms crossed stubbornly. "There's no way I'm letting you go there on your own."

"You can't," Nancy argued, giving a defiant shake of her head, her red-blonde ponytail swinging vigorously. "If I have any hope of getting in there unseen, I need to do it alone. Can you understand that?"

"I suppose," Ned relented after a pause, still unhappy with her decision. "It's just I don't like the idea of you doing this on your own. Can you understand _that_?"

Rendered speechless by the tenderness of his expression, Nancy could only nod, a crimson blush sweeping across her face.

"What if he comes home and catches you or you get hurt or I don't even know," he finished weakly, overwhelmed by the sudden devastating fear that some terrible fate would befall her.

"It won't, I swear," she murmured comfortingly, barely breathing as she felt him place his hand on hers.

"You always say that," Ned whispered and he was so close, Nancy could feel his breath warm on her cheek.

"And I'm always fine, aren't I," Nancy smiled weakly, finally gathering the courage to meet his gaze, her heart momentarily stopping at the level of emotion she found there. Gripped in a sort of dizzy excitement, both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, Nancy felt swept away, powerless under the spell he'd cast for her. For an impossibly magical moment, the world around her ceased to exist as Ned's lips met hers. Months of frustration, restraint and commendable self-control melted into nothing as his arms tightened around hers, their bodies locked together as their passion took a hold of them.

"I'm sorry, Nancy," Ned mumbled apologetically, politely disentangling himself and hastily standing up, smoothing his rumpled shirt and jeans. "That should never have happened. I'm going to go," he added almost immediately, nearly tripping over the coffee table in his haste to get out of her apartment.

Having been denied Ned's presence for so long, Nancy had conditioned herself to believe that she didn't need him or what their relationship had represented; but now, having been given a taste of what they once had, what they could still have, it was a cruel shock to have it taken so suddenly and abruptly away. "You don't need to, " Nancy pleaded, praying she wasn't coming across as needy.

"No, I do," Ned replied, red-faced as he pulled on his coat. "This has nothing to do with you, Nancy, okay?" he added in a kinder voice, shooting a tender smile in her direction. "It's just you're the first person I've been this close to since Caroline died and it just feels a little strange."

"It's okay, I understand," Nancy smiled shyly, fidgeting nervously with a stray lock of hair. "I'll call you after I'm finished at Brian's house, okay?"

"You better call me the second you get out of that house," he demanded only half-jokingly, leaning over and nervously enclosing her in a loose, gentle hug. "Because I won't be able to relax or get any work done until I know you're okay."

"Scout's honor." Nancy promised with a small smile, her stomach a sickening tangle of nerves as the door closed behind Ned.

xxxxx

Parking at a discreet distance from the house, Nancy noted with some relief the conspicuous absence of Brian Smith's jaunty red sports car. The morning was most unpleasant; the sky had darkened to a murky, ominous blue-black from the clouds above that threatened to burst at any given second. The unseasonably bad weather in part afforded Nancy a deal of anonymity, with the usual joggers warm in the confines of their houses, their morning run unappealing in such inclement conditions, and the city commuters long departed, determined to get a head start on the unrelenting city traffic.

Her red-blonde hair knotted in a tight bun and secured under a thick head band and her faded jeans and sweatshirt both bland and unmemorable, Nancy gave a furtive glance around and, satisfied she wasn't being overlooked or spied upon by some overly curious neighbor, deftly picked the lock on the door. Wandering into the house, Nancy shivered involuntarily, her footsteps echoing dully as they passed over the bare, dusty floorboards. Unlike the carefully landscaped lawn, whose richly colored blooms had been both engaging and inviting, the house itself was a bare, unassuming space, the furniture sparse and neglected, which lent it an eerie, unlived-in feeling. Consistent with the spartan interior of the house, nothing superfluous lay around. There was no book perched on the low coffee table, ragged and dog eared through overuse, no cups and dishes lay draining beside the sink, and even the fridge, normally a harbor of chaos in even the tidiest of households, was disappointingly empty. In fact there was nothing in the house at all that betrayed any facet of Brian Smith's personality. It was like he didn't even live here; the house was just a front, a diversion, and much like the exquisite garden, a facade to disguise what was really underneath.

Conscious of the time, Nancy hurried up the stairs, her feelings of unease only intensifying as she passed through the bare vaultlike rooms, one in particular capturing her imagination. Here vast white sheets hung like treacherous ghosts concealing the scant array of furniture and paintings, and a small makeshift bed stood untidily in the corner. Intrigued, Nancy pulled one of the sheets away from the wall, the dust scattering and floating in the air like grubby grey-white snow. Her heart pounding in sudden fear, Nancy realized the meticulous artwork was strangely reminiscent of Caroline; the shiny, dark ringlets and the intense brown eyes unmistakably belonged to Ned's dead wife. Driven by a sick fascination, Nancy pulled off the remaining sheets, her worst fears confirmed when the familiar wide, friendly grin and warm, brown eyes smiled back at her.

Shocked, Nancy staggered back, a sudden flash of red at the window commanding her attention.

He was back.


	5. The Shape of Things to Come

**Thanks to all who've reviewed so far! I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Also thanks so much to ulstergirl, my fabulous beta!**

* * *

Seeing the car, Nancy felt physically sick; here was the man who had been obsessed with Ned's wife, maybe obsessed enough to murder her in cold blood. Nancy had to force herself not to imagine Caroline sprawled on the pavement. Even the thought of it made her cower against the wall in terror of what he'd probably do to her when he found her. It was only twenty steps maximum from the car to the door. Another twenty and he'd be up the stairs and then...

_Stop,_ Nancy commanded herself, her mind wandering to dark, unpleasant thoughts, panic threatening to envelop her again. She'd never felt so utterly defenseless; working in the FBI, Nancy had the luxury of backup and the protection of a SWAT team. Here, trapped in this house of horrors, she had only her wits to rely on. Her gun was uselessly nestled under her pillow at home. Her hand brushing against the hard outline of her cell phone, tucked into the pocket of her jeans, Nancy felt a sudden surge of hope before dismissing the idea as utter madness. She had, after all, stolen the files from a police station, which could be construed as both theft and fraud at the very least. She would earn immediate dismissal from the FBI and Nancy had worked too hard and for too long for that.

_Come on Nancy, you've got to get out of here,_ she instructed herself firmly, realizing with a pang that any hope she'd had of escaping the house without a trace were cruelly dashed. The heavy white sheets lying in dusty tangle on the floor betrayed Smith's unwelcome intruder, one who knew his secret. She'd never make it down the stairs in time and the upper floor of the house was vast and forbidding, the bare echoing rooms offering little opportunity to hide.

_Where is he,_ Nancy thought wildly, expecting the scrape of a key in the door at any minute. The seconds were screaming, counting down in her head, the sheer anticipation of it almost killing her, but the sound never came. Gazing surreptitiously out of the window, Nancy almost sagged in relief seeing Smith in conversation with a passing jogger, the girl's dark eyes sparkling with interest as she flirted outrageously with her rich, handsome neighbor. Scrambling down the stairs, Nancy retraced her steps back into the creaking, dilapidated kitchen, coughing as she ran through the dusty, cobweb strewn space, when she finally heard it; his cheerful goodbye, the scrape of his key in the lock, the resounding bang of the door. Panicked, Nancy redoubled her efforts, struggling with the ancient key, the twisted metal rusted helplessly into the ruined lock, his footsteps echoing through the house signaling a furious death knell.

_God, if he found her here. _

Dismissing the thought, Nancy grappled with the unyielding key, almost screaming in frustration when her hands, slick with sweat, were rendered worse than useless.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing here?" his voice suddenly sounded behind her, his footsteps dangerously close.

Realizing it futile to continue her struggle with the door, Nancy made a mad dash for the window, seemingly her last hope of escape from this enraged madman. Lashing out violently at Nancy, his fists colliding angrily with her flailing limbs, Brian grabbed a tight hold of her arm, so close his breath was hot and sticky on her skin, making her feel suddenly nauseated. "You didn't think I'd let you go that easily, did you?" he taunted her mockingly, his fingers digging painfully into her skin.

Her lungs burning with exertion, Nancy spun around, aiming a vicious kick at his mid-section succeeding at disarming him temporarily.

"Bitch," he spat out, doubled over and clutching at his stomach in pain. "You'll pay for this, mark my words. Wait until I get my hands on you."

Not doubting the threat implied in his words, Nancy grabbed an available crockery bowl, its heavy awkwardness satisfying her requirements, and smashed it against the window, the shattered glass scattering across the floor in a spectacular, glittering affair.

"Get back here," he roared from behind her, frantically regaining his footing, his hands scrabbling to grab hold of her fleeing, retreating form.

_Now or never._

Not giving herself a chance to think, Nancy pulled herself onto the rotting, sagging windowsill, breathing a silent prayer it would support her weight, and edged her way carefully through the jagged opening into the cool evening air, impervious to the pain even as the ragged pointed shards tore into her skin.

xxxxx

"Thank God you're okay," Ned declared fervently on finding Nancy's trembling form standing anxiously on the doorstep. Only his daughter's hand clinging protectively to his prevented him from rushing forward and pulling her into his arms. "When I didn't hear from you, I was going out of my mind with worry, and when you didn't pick up, I started to seriously panic," he admitted, reaching out and tenderly examining the fresh purple-red bruises snaking up her arm.

"Ned, I'm fine, really," Nancy reassured him, mindful of the presence of his small watchful daughter and not wanting to alarm her further. "Hi, you must be Rebecca," she greeted the little girl gently, smiling as Rebecca tugged shyly on her long, dark curls, her thumb stuck endearingly in her mouth.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, her brown eyes practically dancing in her head as she bounced up and down.

"I'm a friend of your dad's," Nancy answered with a smile.

"If you're a friend of my dad's, how come I've never met you before?" Rebecca countered, her eyes narrowed suspiciously, prompting Nancy to look to Ned for help.

"This is Nancy, Rebecca, and I know her for a long, long time, from before you were even born," Ned supplied helpfully, winking playfully at Nancy.

"Before I was even born," Rebecca gasped, her eyes widened in disbelief. "Wow, that's a long time."

"It sure is," Ned murmured in agreement, leading Nancy into the comfortably decorated living room, Rebecca's dolls and toys scattered untidily around, the framed photographs of Caroline instantly reminding Nancy of the twisted shrine in Smith's house.

"She's adorable," Nancy smiled, the tremor in her body gradually subsiding as she sank into the sofa, Rebecca lying sprawled on the ground, a purple crayon grasped in the chubby fingers.

"She is that," Ned smiled proudly before turning his attention back to Nancy. "Now, tell me exactly what happened," he demanded worriedly, before pausing and casting a look in his daughter's direction, the little girl completely unaware, scribbling intently on her coloring book. "Rebecca, go to your room and make a surprise picture for daddy, okay? I'll call you when dinner is ready."

"Okay, Daddy," she replied brightly, skipping happily out of the room, her previous perch a colorful swath of abandoned markers and pencils.

"I don't know about you, but I could definitely do with a drink." Ned sighed wearily and at Nancy's consenting nod, poured a generous measure of whiskey into glasses.

"What happened?" he asked in obvious concern, passing her the glass.

"Brian came back," Nancy replied shakily, raising her hands wearily to her slowly throbbing head. "He nearly caught me. I just barely got away."

"What?" Ned exclaimed, his voice echoing in shock. "He nearly caught you. I knew I should have come with you," he berated himself disgustedly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Nancy reassured him weakly, a wobbly smile on her face. "I just got a bit of a shock, that's all."

"Well, what did you find out?" Ned prompted her impatiently, glancing quickly at the door to ensure Rebecca was out of earshot.

"It's definitely him," Nancy sighed, shivering in spite of herself. "He has all these paintings on the wall," she explained, gesturing vaguely, the throb in her head growing steadily worse by the second.

"So?" Ned cut in irritably, taking a distracted sip of his drink.

"They were all of Caroline, Ned. He's completely obsessed with her," Nancy informed him hesitantly, Ned's face paling and the drink held frozen to his lips as her words sank in.

"You're sure about this?" he asked dully, downing his whiskey furiously.

At Nancy's affirmative nod, he sprang to his feet, incensed. "I'm going to kill that guy," Ned declared roughly through clenched teeth, his fists balled angrily at his sides.

"Ned, no," Nancy hissed, pulling him back down beside her. "The guy's a maniac, he'll kill you if you go back there. Think of Rebecca," she pleaded in a softer voice, gratified to see the rigidity of his posture gradually relax.

"Okay, for Rebecca," he relented, albeit reluctantly, evident by the dark, wrathful expression on his face. "What are you going to do next?"

"Nothing at the moment," Nancy admitted balefully, resting her head against the back of the couch and feeling utterly defeated. "I can't very well go back to his house, I doubt I'd be so lucky to escape a second time. I didn't want to do this but I'm probably going to have to involve the FBI. They won't be happy," she sighed dismally, cradling her face in her arms.

"How bad do you think it will be?" Ned murmured sympathetically, reaching out and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, his expression suddenly turning to concern. "Nancy, is that blood on your leg?"

"Oh, that," Nancy shrugged dismissively on examining the stain. "I must have cut it on the glass. It's fine."

"Here, let me have a look at it," he commanded her gently, pulling her leg onto his lap and gingerly rolling up the leg of the jeans, Nancy wincing in pain as the stiff material brushed against the gash.

"It's bad enough, Nan," Ned observed worriedly, examining the broken skin with tender fingers. "It looks pretty deep. You probably need a couple of stitches."

"And spend all night in the emergency room," Nancy scoffed, secretly enjoying the care and attention being lavished on her by Ned. "If it's still bleeding tomorrow, I'll go, I promise," she added to appease him.

"Okay," he relented, still obviously unhappy with her decision to let the trip to the emergency room slide. "Then let me at least clean it up for you," he offered, retrieving the first-aid kit from the kitchen and cleaning and bandaging the wound, his fingers lingering on her skin long after he'd pronounced her done.

"Thanks, Ned," Nancy smiled, her legs still draped over his lap, neither moving, as though reluctant to break apart.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Ned murmured softly, trailing his fingers lightly across her cheek.

Gripped in the sudden perfection of the moment, Nancy leaned in and kissed him gently, happy and surprised when Ned returned her advances, the kiss starting out sweet and tender and quickly growing more passionate and desperate. Ned's fingers tangled in her hair, his hand wandering beneath her top, caressing the soft, tender skin there.

"Daddy, I'm finished."

At the sound of Rebecca's singsong voice, Nancy and Ned sprang apart guiltily, the little girl skipping happily into the room and climbing up on the sofa between the pair. "Look what I made," she exclaimed excitedly, proudly displaying the crudely painted artwork, Nancy and Ned feigning interest while secretly exchanging loaded glances and smiles over Rebecca's head.

"It's really good, Rebecca," Nancy praised the little girl, reluctantly breaking free from Ned's mesmerizing gaze, smiling as she noticed the bright purple smeared across her face and trailing down her white cotton dress. "You did that all by yourself?"

"Yeah," she nodded delightedly, her head bobbing furiously up and down, prompting a few dark ringlets to escape the confines of her pink hair band.

"Rebecca, you just put on that dress an hour ago," Ned chuckled disbelievingly, taking in the disheveled state of his daughter. "What happened?"

"The paint fell," she shrugged, her tone very matter-of-fact.

"So it was the paint's fault," Ned replied in a mock serious voice.

"Yeah," she answered with such an earnest expression on her face, that Nancy only just managed to smother the laughter that was threatening to erupt at any second.

"You're something else, you know that?" Ned smiled at his daughter, pulling her close for a hug before starting for the kitchen. "I'm going to start dinner. What about pizza?"

"Yay! I love pizza," Rebecca exclaimed excitedly, clapping her hands in delight. "And ice cream, Daddy. Can we have ice cream?" she asked hopefully.

"If you're good," Ned replied jokingly, rummaging in the freezer for the pizza.

"I'm always good, Daddy," Rebecca responded indignantly before turning her attention to her Barbie doll and curling up on a chair, meticulously brushing and re-plaiting the golden-blonde hair.

"And you, Nancy?" Ned asked, turning to her expectantly. "You'll stay for dinner, won't you?"

"I'd love to," Nancy smiled, suddenly wondering if she wasn't committing to a lot more than pizza and ice cream.

xxxxx

"How are you, Nan?" Aaron asked curiously, enclosing her in a tender embrace, Nancy stiff and uncomfortable in his arms. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm the same, you know?" Nancy replied vaguely, her smile off-kilter, inwardly cursing the slight tremor in her hand as she clumsily poured wine into the waiting glasses.

If Aaron noticed her standoffish behavior at all, he didn't comment on it, just accepted the offered glass of wine with a grateful smile. "Hey, these are great, they really breathe some life into the place," he observed enthusiastically, wandering over to the fireplace and examining the new artwork strategically placed on the wall. "So you finally decided to take my advice," he joked teasingly, taking a seat beside her on the leather couch and squeezing her hand warmly in his.

"Yeah," Nancy coughed uncomfortably, her answering smile a lie, wondering what Aaron would think if he knew it was an ex-boyfriend's careless faux-pas that had driven Nancy out of her bed on a Sunday morning to spend the day browsing Pottery Barn, and not his well intentioned nagging.

"So anyway, what have you been up to, Nan?" he enquired uneasily, releasing her hand awkwardly when he noticed her rather obvious discomfort. "It's just we haven't seen each other in ages."

"I know, it's been a crazy few weeks," Nancy admitted softly, fidgeting nervously with her bracelet, unable to bring herself to meet his gaze. "Actually, Aaron, that's why I asked you here tonight. I need to talk to you about something," she began. She broached the topic of her investigation into Caroline's death warily, already sensing his likely reaction.

"You did what?" he remonstrated angrily on hearing her rendition of the previous months, his words echoing around the room. "Do you have any idea what kind of position you have put me in? I could lose my job, we both could. Why the hell would you do that to me, to yourself?" he spat out, his tone hard and disbelieving.

"How could I not?" Nancy shot back heatedly, the color high on her cheeks. "Ned's an old friend, he's done so much for me over the years. What was I supposed to have done, ignore him? Turn my back on him?"

"That's exactly what you should have done," he spat out triumphantly, taking a furious gulp of his wine. "The same way you've been ignoring me for weeks."

"Don't make this about us, Aaron," Nancy pleaded in a stricken voice, tears burning at the back of her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

"Isn't it?" he shot back cuttingly, silencing her with a furious glare. "You've been distant with me for weeks, not taking my calls, ignoring me at work. You're sleeping with him, aren't you?" Aaron demanded icily, roughly taking her face in his hand and forcing her to look at him. "Because for the life of me I can't think of any other reason you'd do something so bloody stupid."

"Haven't you heard a single word I just said?" Nancy practically screamed at him with frustration, willing the hot, angry tears back. "No, I haven't slept with him."

"But you want to," he shrugged resignedly, the fight suddenly gone out of him, gazing at Nancy with a guarded, wary expression as if knowing how she would reply.

"What Ned and I have is complicated," Nancy sighed after a tense, awkward pause, her drink held pensively to her lips. "We were in love, once, a long time ago, and if I'm to be perfectly honest," she paused, cringing inwardly at the hurt on his face. "I think I might still have some feelings for him."

"It's okay, Nancy," Aaron shrugged, finally conceding defeat in his battle for her affections, his voice far kinder and more understanding then she'd expected. "I've known now for a long time that your heart wasn't in this relationship and I've clung on, thinking that something would change, but it hasn't. I love you but it's not fair of me to hold onto you, especially when you're not happy."

"I'm so sorry," Nancy whispered through her tears, suddenly overwhelmed by a plethora of conflicting emotions. While Nancy had expected to feel relieved, even happy at being freed from the burden of the struggling, floundering relationship, she was surprised instead to feel something closer to fear and panic. Aaron had been one of the few constants in her life over the previous few years and it was a suddenly terrifying prospect to let go of that security.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered gently, reaching out and pulling her close for a final embrace. "We'll deal with Smith, okay? Don't worry about it anymore. We'll talk about how best to progress with it next week."

"I really did love you, Aaron," she added weakly, swiping blindly at the tears that streamed down her face.

"Hey, I know that." he reassured her gently, his voice choked with emotion as he reached out and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Nan, I'm going to go, okay?"

Nodding her head mutely, Nancy fumbled blindly into the bedroom, unable to watch him walk out of her apartment for the last time.


	6. Guns and Gossip

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! I'm so glad everyone is enjoying the story! I'm going on holiday on Saturday, so it will be three/four weeks before I get the chance to post again.**

* * *

_Guided by the pale, dim moonlight, she wandered uncertainly along the isolated track, desperately searching for shelter. The storm that had been threatening for days had suddenly taken a determined hold, the wind whipping golden-blonde hair furiously around her face and the soft patter of rainfall quickly intensifying into a steady roar. Shivering, her thin cotton dress clinging to her dripping skin, she felt a sudden burst of enthusiasm on seeing a vague glimmer of light ahead._

_"Thank God," she murmured in relief, stumbling blindly towards the inviting orange-yellow glow._

"How can you bear to watch this, Nancy?" Bess demanded shakily, clutching a brightly patterned cushion protectively over her face. "He's going to be there, isn't he?"

"Bess, quit it," Nancy hissed impatiently, her eyes glued to the screen, nibbling distractedly on the buttery remains of the popcorn. "We're just getting to the good part."

_Walking up the creaking steps she paused, suddenly gripped by a terrible sense of fear and foreboding. There was something untoward and forbidding about the house and some instinct screamed at her not to go in._

"Don't do it, do not go in," Bess pleaded with the girl, her blue eyes darting nervous glances over the cushion at the screen. "He's going to be there," she shrieked, growing mildly hysterical as the tension mounted to almost unbearable levels.

"Bess, come on," Nancy cut in exasperated, rolling her eyes in irritation. "You're ruining the movie."

_Knocking hesitantly on the door, the answering heavy thud of footsteps chilled her to the bone. Maybe she should run while she still had the chance but the storm was growing increasingly violent, giant flashes of light zigzagging across the sky with a fierce vengeance. She'd never last the night. Better to stay and take her chances with a mysterious stranger than risk the wrath of Mother Nature outside. At the rattling of the door chain, the girl waited expectantly, her wide smile dropping at the sight of the man framed in the door. It was him._

_"Glad you could make it, Kelly," he smiled malevolently, chuckling at the fear in her eyes. "I've been waiting for you."_

"Remind me to _neve_r watch anything like that, ever again," Bess shuddered as the credits rolled, the screen mercifully blackening and obliterating the grisly remains of the girl now lying bloodied and broken on the porch.

"That end bit was terrifying," Nancy agreed shakily, draining the end of her beer and placing the bottle on the floor, the floorboards littered with candy wrappers and half-eaten bags of chips, the spoils of a typical night in with Bess.

"Aaron took the break-up well," Bess commented pointedly, gazing curiously at her friend. Nancy's slightly reddened, swollen face was the only sign of her emotional upset.

"He was really good about it," Nancy agreed, pulling her bare feet under her and settling back comfortably in the couch. Nancy loved spending time in Bess's apartment. Lavishly decorated in pale pinks and white, it was dainty and pretty and reflected Bess's personality perfectly. "I feel kind of bad about it but the relationship had run its course and there was no point in keeping up the pretense that everything was okay, when it most definitely was not," she shrugged, her attention momentarily distracted by the soft buzz of her phone.

_Just wondering how you're feeling and if you're interested in having dinner tomorrow night. Pick you up at eight? Ned._

Reading his words, Nancy couldn't stop a smile spreading across her face.

"You're looking pretty happy for someone who just broke up with her boyfriend," Bess observed shrewdly, plucking a chocolate from a half-eaten box and devouring it before pushing the box away, disgusted.

"It's Ned," Nancy admitted with a guilty smile. "We've kind of shared a moment or two over the last few days."

"A moment or two," Bess echoed jokingly, gazing at Nancy with raised eyebrows. "Are these the kind of moments that end up with the two of you sharing breakfast?"

"No," Nancy protested laughing, firing a cushion at her friend. "They were the perfectly innocent kind, I can assure you. But that doesn't mean I haven't thought about what it would be like, though," she added wickedly, laughing at the mischievous expression on her friend's face.

"You're unreal," Bess laughed, tossing the cushion back playfully at her friend. "Caught between two men," she sighed dramatically, "One still grieving his wife and the other just out of a divorce. Why I spent the entire day catching up with The Valley is beyond me, when I could have just been talking to you."

"Funny, Bess," Nancy shot back jokingly shooting daggers at her friend.

"Okay, you've got to tell me everything, and don't leave anything out," Bess insisted, hopping off the sofa and padding barefoot into the kitchen. "I'm going to go see if I can find us another bottle of wine and you can tell me all the dirty details."

"Oh, don't," Nancy pleaded, suddenly aware of the time. "I've got to go. Work is going to be tough enough tomorrow without adding a hangover to the mix. I swear I'll fill you in another time. We could do brunch on Sunday," she suggested temptingly, pulling on her sweater and rummaging for her shoes under the sofa. "There's this really nice place opening just around the corner from me."

"Okay," Bess agreed reluctantly, eyeing her friend doubtfully. "But only if you promise not to flake out on me. Even if Ned decides to whisk you off to Paris and declares his undying love for you," she added warningly.

"I promise," Nancy smiled, giving her friend a quick hug before heading for the door.

"Don't you want me to call you a cab, Nan?" Bess asked doubtfully, whisking their empty wine glasses off the table. "It's awfully late."

"On a Saturday night," Nancy returned skeptically, deftly pulling her red-blonde hair into a loose bun. "I'll be waiting hours for it. Besides, it's only a ten-minute walk. I'll call you when I get home."

xxxxx

Having finally convinced Bess that she would be all right, Nancy skipped lightly down the steps, momentarily awed by the beauty of the night; the moon was resplendent in the inky-black sky and the pinprick stars glittered brightly, casting a gentle glow on the world below. Though she was still feeling a little fragile and lost in the wake of her breakup with Aaron, Nancy couldn't deny the euphoria she felt every time she thought about her fledgling relationship with Ned. He was such an amazing, caring person and so handsome, Nancy mused, aware she was descending into the downward spiral of a pathetic schoolgirl crush, just short of doodling his name on her notebook. Nancy had always suspected Ned would make a wonderful father and seeing him with Rebecca and how good he was with her only confirmed that fact. Though she'd never admit it to Bess, the thought of being with him and raising a little family had entered her mind more than once during the evening.

A tremendous echoing crash pulled Nancy from her reverie. Startled, she whipped around, chuckling nervously as the culprit, a scrawny bright-eyed cat, scurried fearfully from some overturned garbage cans.

The night, so beautiful and peaceful a moment ago, now appeared menacing, the towering buildings threatening to close in and swallow her, the heavy darkness a protector of all manners of evil. Unnerved, Nancy wrapped her arms tightly around her body, the short two-block distance to her building suddenly endless.

Climbing the steps to her apartment, Nancy felt an inexplicable sense of relief. She knew it was ridiculous but Nancy couldn't quite shake the feeling she was being watched, eyes boring into the back of her head as she walked the deserted city streets.

"It's probably just the movie," Nancy told herself dismissively, flicking on the light switch. She felt strangely comforted as light flooded the room, swallowing the shadows. Stifling a yawn, Nancy collapsed gratefully on the couch, drained by the events of the previous days. Pulling the blanket tightly around her, she stared at the television screen numbly, barely focusing on the gory crime scene drama.

A soft thump suddenly jolted Nancy to her senses. Confused and dazed, she opened her eyes slowly, the soft hum of the television emanating from the corner alerting Nancy to the fact she had fallen asleep in the living room, yet again.

"Ugh," she groaned, feeling the definite effects of a hangover as she reached instinctively for her gun.

Pulling herself wearily from her cozy nest of blankets and pillows, Nancy's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch as she noticed the open window, the curtains flapping lightly in the breeze.

I can't remember opening that window, Nancy thought, bleary-eyed with exhaustion, her mind dulled by the earlier excesses of alcohol.

Her gun nestled protectively by her side; Nancy edged her way into the darkness, feeling both protected and terrified by the deep blackness all around.

"Ironic, isn't it, how the hunter becomes the hunted?" a familiar voice sneered from the darkness.

His breath warm on her neck, Nancy spun around, tense and confrontational, but too late. The treacherous press of metal was already cold against her neck. Screaming furiously, Nancy struggled desperately with her assailant, the sudden clamp of a hand over her mouth restricting her breathing and making her feel dizzy and claustrophobic.

"We'll have less of that, Ms. Drew. We wouldn't want the neighbors witnessing any unpleasantness, now would we?" he chuckled darkly, the knife uncomfortably close to her neck, the blade digging painfully into her skin.

Spurred by the reassuring weight of the cool, hard metal in her hand, Nancy struggled from his grasp. She hurriedly aimed and pulled the trigger, panic enveloping her as the sound that followed was not the expected ring of gunfire but the faint cackle of laughter.

"I hope you weren't relying on that gun to get you out of this little _situation,"_ he sniggered, his hand tightening around her neck. "I took the liberty of removing the bullets earlier when you were out with that pretty blonde. Bess, isn't it? You see, Nancy, you're not the only one who can sneak around and snoop. I'm actually pretty good at it myself, as you know from your little excursion into my home."

Her eyes growing accustomed to the grainy darkness, Nancy shuddered on seeing a faint sliver of light playing on the blade of the knife. When she finally brought herself to look at his face, she was horrified by the dark evil she found there.

"Your doorman was kind enough to let me in and gather a few things for you, when he heard about the tragic accident your father was involved in this afternoon," he informed her with a careless shrug. "Very helpful man. You should hang onto him, it's so hard to get good staff these days."

"What? You're lying, aren't you?" Nancy screamed, squirming from his gasp, lashing out at him and pounding him with her fists. "My dad's okay, isn't he?" she pleaded desperately, a sob catching in her voice when he failed to answer.

"She screamed like this, you know, when she knew she was going to die," he informed her, his voice barely a whisper, lunging at Nancy with the knife. A searing pain burned through her chest, and then nothing as she lapsed into unconsciousness.


	7. The Aftermath

_Tick-tock, tick-tock, _the monotonous ticking of the clock, a resounding pulse in her ears was all Nancy could hear, all she could focus on. She opened her eyes slowly and cautiously, feeling muzzy and confused.

_Where the hell was she? What had happened? _she wondered groggily, before the answers came flooding back in a violent assault: Brian, the gun, the knife, the whole horrible truth of it. The apartment was deathly quiet, almost unnervingly so; there was no sound of footsteps, no sounds of someone lingering in the shadows, no sound of him, but Nancy could sense his presence and the anticipation was almost killing her.

_Where the hell is he?_ Nancy thought desperately, scrabbling to clamor up off the floor before realizing the futility of her actions. Her arm was twisted awkwardly beneath her and the mere action of lifting her head rendered her instantly nauseated and dizzy. The tiled floor was cold and unforgiving and Nancy's efforts at pulling herself into a more comfortable position immediately sent a blinding pain tearing through her chest. Nancy panicked as a cautionary exploration of the source of pain revealed a sticky wetness that had soaked into her shirt, pooling onto the ground around her.

_Blood_, Nancy realized fearfully, her panic intensifying as the precariousness of the situation sank in. She was helpless and alone, completely at the mercy of Brian Smith, who was at this very moment probably gloating over his victory, sorting triumphantly through her kitchen drawers and deliberating over the most suitable weapon to kill her as slowly and as painfully as possible. Fearing she was beginning to hyperventilate, Nancy closed her eyes and forced herself to relax, directing her thoughts towards Ned, to her cases, to her friends; to anything, really, that would drown out the terrible fear that was threatening to consume her.

Time ticked by and, sprawled in the darkness, Nancy felt her eyes go gloriously heavy, her mind drifting pleasantly to memories of her former life with Ned. Even the pain seemed dulled and it would be so easy to give in, to surrender to the blackness and fall asleep.

_No, _she commanded herself, willing her mind to stay alert. She needed to find a way to get out of here. If Brian came back, he would undoubtedly kill her, but if she remained in her present condition, sprawled on the ground, Nancy knew it would only be a matter of time before she bled to death. Neither prospect was terribly appealing.

_Ned, _her mind screamed out desperately. Nancy clung to the vain hope that he would somehow sense she was in pain and danger and would swoop into to rescue her just like he always did. The thought proved strangely comforting and Nancy visualized it over and over in her mind, hoping it would miraculously come true. She couldn't do this to him, she suddenly realized; it just wasn't fair. His wife's death had almost threatened to destroy him, and she had only just begun to see pieces of his former self reemerge over the last few days. Nancy wasn't sure he could do it again. Just thinking about Ned made her feel stronger, fanciful daydreams about an idyllic future together giving her the strength to hang on.

Hearing the slow shuffling of footsteps and the muffled hum of voices on the corridor, Nancy's heart almost stopped.

"Help, help me, please," she called out before sighing in frustration, the words close to inaudible in her weakened state.

"Help," Nancy called out more determinedly, suddenly panicked that the voices would disappear and with them any hope of escape.

"Are you sure this is the one?" a voice barked commandingly outside the door.

"Of course I'm sure." was the exasperated reply, his assertion accompanied with much huffing and puffing. "The noise that girl made, I'm surprised the whole place wasn't on the phone to you."

Realizing the voice belonged to Mr. Jones, her rather eccentric neighbor, Nancy almost wept in relief. As he was prone to complaining about her music, Nancy had always considered the man a thorn in her side, but now realized his meddlesome activities had probably saved her life. The roar of voices and the splintering of wood were the last things Nancy heard before finally losing her battle with the rising dark.

xxxxx

A dull ache spreading through her body and her eyes heavy weights, Nancy pulled herself from the blackness, the press of cool sheets against her skin strangely comforting. Though she was fuzzy and disorientated, her head swarming with scrambled, distorted images, Nancy could sense another presence and was vaguely aware of the tight squeeze of a hand around hers.

"How are you feeling, Nan?" Ned asked softly, relief clear on his face as her blue eyes flickered slowly open.

"Okay, I guess," she shrugged weakly, her desire to see Ned and to talk to him fighting with her body's need for sleep. "I just feel so tired and I have a terrible headache."

"I'm so glad you're okay, Nan," Ned declared emphatically, sweeping the tangled lengths of her hair away from her face and murmuring to her softly. "What the hell happened?"

"I woke up and he was there," she mumbled groggily, instinctively reaching towards her wounded side. "There was so much blood," she sighed, a look of horror on her face as violent images flooded her head.

"Don't worry, Nan, you're safe now," Ned murmured reassuringly, his voice softening to a whisper as if sensing her need for sleep.

"Did they catch him?" she mumbled weakly, struggling to maintain consciousness. She saw flowers propped on the bedside table, a halo of pink smiling down at her. "Well, did they?" she demanded more insistently, sensing his hesitance and reluctance.

"Not yet," he admitted with a sigh, his stomach tightening at seeing the distress on her face. "The police are onto it. By all accounts they've got some pretty good leads and they're hopeful for an arrest soon," Ned shrugged helplessly, wishing for a moment he had never dragged her into this, had never rekindled their relationship, because all the happiness and exhilaration of the previous few weeks were never worth this, were never worth seeing her lying hurt and fearful on her hospital bed.

As Nancy's eyes flickered slowly open and shut and her breathing gradually evened out, Ned kissed her gently on her cheek. "Nan, I'm going to head home and let you get some rest. I'll see you in the morning," he whispered softly, presuming she had drifted off to sleep.

"No, stay," she pleaded, her grip on his hand surprisingly strong as she gazed longingly into his brown eyes.

"If you want me to," he whispered softly, Nancy already falling into a contented slumber, feeling safe and protected in Ned's presence.

xxxxx

Flicking idly through the morning roundup of bubbly repetitive talk shows, Nancy sighed in exasperation, the previous days a blur of bad daytime television, outdated magazines, and bland hospital food. Despite frequent visits from her father and Jennifer and Bess and George, her constant companions, who were forgoing dates and other commitments to indulge their friend in the latest gossip and offer her advice on the tenuous situation with Ned, Nancy was growing increasingly edgy and discontented. Patience never being one of her strongest virtues, Nancy found the time spent in the claustrophobic environment of the hospital almost unbearable. Time she could be spending tracking down leads or interviewing witnesses was instead spent staring at the clinical white of the walls, the long hours only broken by trays of bland hospital food and doctor's rounds. Her almost desperate requests to review files pertaining to the case were flat out denied, the FBI demanding she use the time to recuperate and though she begged and pleaded with the doctors to discharge her, that she felt fine, she had only been met with bemused chuckles and smiles and vague reassurances that did nothing to encourage Nancy's flagging spirit.

Nancy couldn't deny that she was scared; dark, unpleasant thoughts of him commanded her every waking moment and she needed him to be caught, to be locked away, if only so she could sleep soundly without the constant fear of waking to find the cold blue of his eyes staring at her.

Ned was another concern and though her brought her flowers and made the requisite inquiries and polite chatter, she could sense he had distanced himself from her, had almost shut himself off from the tentative beginnings of their relationship they had sought to reignite. She knew he felt a certain amount of guilt for getting her involved in the first place but it was more than that, more than just guilt and responsibility; it was fear, fear he could lose Nancy in the same cold, brutal manner he had lost his wife. As much as the prospect of a bloody showdown with Brian scared Nancy, the idea of being without Ned again absolutely terrified her.

At the tentative knock at the door, Nancy discarded the remote gratefully, unable to disguise her surprise on seeing Aaron wander nervously into the room, his stance stiff and uncomfortable.

"Hey Nancy, how are you feeling?" he asked gently, a sympathetic expression on his face as he took in Nancy's rather debilitated state.

"Like I got a knife stuck in my side," she joked weakly, gratified to see a smile cross her ex-lover's face. "Aaron, I'm okay, really," she added reassuringly, pulling herself up into a sitting position on the bed. "I'm dying to get back to work, though. I'm so bored," she lamented, causing Aaron to roll his eyes in amusement.

The tension finally dispelled, Nancy and Aaron settled into their old routine, intently discussing some interesting cases the team was involved in. Nancy eagerly drank in the information, having being deprived of work related conversation for so long.

"Level with me, Aaron," Nancy finally brought herself to say, her body tensing in anticipation of his answer. "Have I totally fucked things up for myself?"

"You did," Aaron answered honestly, shifting uncomfortably on the hard plastic chair. "But I pulled in a few favors and it's going to be all right. Now, that's not to say there's not going to be repercussions," he added warningly, giving her a stern look. "But they'll be relatively minor."

"Thanks, Aaron, I really appreciate this," Nancy smiled gratefully, willing back the tears that unexpectedly pooled in her eyes. "He's still out there, though," she added after a moment's pause, gazing out the window thoughtfully. "And I'm scared of what's going happen next."

Gazing at her sympathetically, Aaron sighed, "I know, Nancy, and that's why I've arranged for you to stay at a safe location until we have him in police custody. You'll have police protection and will be totally safe."

"But what about Brian?" Nancy demanded worriedly, uneasy and slightly resentful at the thought of lying idle while he was still out there.

"Nancy, you need this time to recover from your injury," Aaron reminded her firmly, recognizing the familiar stubbornness in her tone. "We'll handle this. We did manage to apprehend the odd criminal before you joined the team, Nancy, you know," he couldn't resist pointing out, amused by the look of exasperation on Nancy's face.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Nancy relented with a defeated sigh. "I'll do it, go to the safe location, recover, whatever, but don't for one minute think it's going to take six weeks like that doctor said. I will be back on the team by three weeks, four tops. Got that?"

"I never expected anything less from you," Aaron admitted with a knowing smile as he pulled himself out of the chair. "Keep safe, okay, Nancy?"

"Promise," Nancy reassured him as he made his way across the room. "And Aaron?" she called out, causing the agent to turn around. "Thank you so much for this."

"Anything for you, Nancy," he informed her with a smile before vanishing out the door.

xxxxx

Her eyes glued to the television screen, Nancy pushed her peas dispassionately around the plate, the bland, overcooked vegetables seemingly a staple of hospital food. Suffering major withdrawal symptoms from her work, Nancy had clung eagerly to any crime drama showing on the television, piecing together clues and analyzing the evidence and challenging herself to solve the case before the team of investigators did. It was desperation, she told herself reassuringly, feeling a bit ridiculous, though she still couldn't bring herself to admit the truth to any of her friends.

"Something wrong with the food?" a voice called out jokingly. Nancy looked up delightedly on hearing Ned.

"Prison food has to be better than this," she replied, gesturing to the sorry mess on her plate. "Don't feel too sorry for me, though," she reassured him with a smile, surreptitiously withdrawing a bag of candy and chocolate from her bedside table. Sympathetic to her plight, Bess had taken it upon herself to ensure Nancy had a constant supply of treats so she at least would not starve to death during her time in the hospital.

"Bess?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"Who else?" she replied as Ned perched himself on the side of her bed, goose pimples prickling her skin at his closeness.

There was a quietness suddenly, as though neither of them knew what to say and Nancy couldn't quell that sudden fear that Ned was distancing himself from her as quickly as he could.

"Nancy," he finally began, and she could sense the nervousness in his voice. "Things have been great these past few months and I know we've been taking things slow, and that's partly my fault because I didn't want to rush into a relationship and bring someone into Rebecca's life unless I was sure."

His brown-eyed gaze focused on her so intently, Nancy found it difficult to breathe.

"I don't want to wait anymore, Nancy," he murmured, his fingers trailing down the bare skin of her forearm. "I love you."

"I love you too," Nancy whispered, her heart fluttering wildly in anticipation as they moved instinctively together until his lips were warm on hers, his hand cupping her face tenderly.

"If the past few days have thought me anything," he murmured, pulling reluctantly away from her touch, "it's that I want us to be together. I really want to give us a chance. What do you think?"

"You know what I think," she replied softly, surprised by the catch in her voice as she gazed into his eyes. "I love you, Ned, and I want this to work more than anything in the world."

"Good. That's settled then," Ned smiled, his arms encircling her loosely as he kissed her gently.

"You know, you can't go back to that apartment," he murmured thoughtfully, pulling back and carefully searching her face. "Come and stay with me and Rebecca, at least until you get yourself sorted out."

Nancy shuddered at the mere thought of her presumably blood-drenched, blood-splattered apartment and had already vowed to never return there. Touched by the longing and sincerity of his words and the hope for their future that lay behind them, Nancy suddenly found herself crying, her body racked with deep wrenching sobs.

"What's wrong?" Ned asked worriedly, pressing a kiss to her tear-stained cheeks.

"Ned, I would love nothing more that to do just that, to come home with you and spend time with you and Rebecca, figuring things out and getting to you know you all over again, but I can't," she managed through her sobs, rubbing furiously at her swollen, red-rimmed eyes, trying desperately to regain control over her emotions. "I'm going out of town for a while. It's not safe for me to stay in Chicago until he's caught," she explained, Ned's face falling in disappointment at her words.

"Then I'm coming with you," Ned decided almost immediately, silencing Nancy's protests with a gentle shake of his head. "I want to be with you, Nan," he explained softly taking her hand in his. "And I don't think I could bear spending any more time apart."

"Okay," Nancy finally replied, a smile spreading across her face as she settled into the protective warmth of his arms, Ned deliberately careful not to disturb her heavily bandaged side.

Things were finally looking up. Lying there in his embrace, Nancy had never felt so safe or protected. They had so much to be happy about, so much reason to be hopeful for the future. Even so, she couldn't shake the deep, troubling intuition that this was just the beginning and the worst was yet to come.


	8. In Dreams Begin Responsibilities

**I finally got the inspiration to get back on track with The Awakening! I hope everyone enjoys! **

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. Also, a special thanks to ulstergirl, my amazing beta!**

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Apart from a few specially chosen agents in the FBI, nobody knew where Nancy and Ned were; a disposable cell phone and sporadic news reports on the television were their only connection to the outside world. Overlooking the sandy shores of Lake Michigan, the house was tucked far from busy highways and overinquisitive neighbors, and thus guaranteed perfect anonymity. The way Aaron had so casually dismissed the place they were to be staying in as a cabin, Nancy had expected clumsy mismatched furniture and sand-trodden floors, not this meticulous house with its perfectly coordinated rooms and gleaming white and chrome kitchen. Initially a police car had been stationed outside the house but after two weeks without incident, the precaution had been deemed superfluous and despite both Ned and Aaron's qualms, the protection had been rescinded. Now Nancy had only her Glock to rely on, the gun strapped permanently to her leg.

A few half-dressed Barbie dolls, their golden hair already twisting out of the plaits Rebecca had tried to enforce on them, scattering the sofa, Nancy and Ned cleared a place for themselves among the chaos, his hand brushing lightly against hers as they watched a movie in comfortable silence. Things hadn't changed much since they had declared their love for each other in the horrible aftermath of Brian's vicious assault, neither one wanting to further complicate Rebecca's already complicated life. They kissed occasionally, held hands secretly under the table, even snuggled up close on the sofa when Rebecca was asleep, but late at night, when every channel on the television was resorting to playing the same drawn-out infomercials, it was to their own separate bedrooms that they retired.

Chicken that had been left to simmer lazily on the stove, now hissed warningly from the pan, threatening to burn. On impulse, Nancy hopped up hastily from the sofa, the action earning her immediate disapproval from Ned and a sharp, stinging sensation in her side.

"You're meant to be taking it easy, remember," he murmured accusingly, pushing her back gently onto the couch, a shiver running up Nancy's spine as his hand brushed lightly against her arm, his fingertips cool on the bare skin.

"Ned, I keep telling you I'm fine," Nancy protested insistently as she wandered into the kitchen behind him and wrapped her arms around his broad chest, amused at his efforts to resurrect the already long ruined dinner.

"And I keep telling you that I like looking after you," Ned replied lovingly, turning around to face her, his brown eyes lingering momentarily on hers.

Hypnotized by the almost desperate expression on his face, Nancy couldn't resist leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips, dinner forgotten as he pinned her gently against the sink. His arms pulled her close, their kisses gaining in intensity as they stumbled onto the couch.

"I love you, so much," Nancy whispered breathlessly, pulling back for a moment, her blue eyes searching his.

"I love you too," he replied softly, holding her gaze, his fingertips trailing softly across her chest and coming to rest on the soft skin that stretched above her heart.

"Daddy,"

The pitter-patter of her tiny footsteps announced Rebecca's presence long before she skipped delightedly into the sitting room, a tiara of sorts perched regally on her sleep tangled curls. His shirt and hair carefully smoothed, Ned sat at a careful distance from Nancy, and Rebecca gazed between the two of them as she came in.

"I was looking for you, Dad," she declared dramatically, adjusting the tiara clumsily before throwing herself on the sofa beside Nancy, a sparkly princess costume flowing around her ankles. "I can't find my fairy wand and I've looked everywhere," she added in a pleading voice, her brown eyes gazing beseechingly at her father.

"You planning on casting some spells on us, Princess Rebecca?" Ned asked his daughter jokingly before catching her in his arms and tickling her, and she screamed in delight, her tiny arms and legs flailing in retaliation.

"No," she squealed, finally breaking free of her father's grasp and snuggling protectively into Nancy's side, her plump cheeks pink with excitement. "I just wanted to practice some magic on Cindy," she finally managed to blurt out, a serious expression crossing her face as her giggles gradually began to subside. "I think I want her to have long hair again."

Cindy was Rebecca's favorite doll, whose hair had been unexpectedly butchered the previous week when Rebecca had decided to perfect her hairdressing skills. Ned had since wisely gathered up all the scissors in the house and secreted them carefully in a high cabinet above the sink, fearing what toy would next meet Rebecca's wrath.

"I think it's in your toy chest," Nancy told the girl kindly as she exchanged an amused glance with Ned.

"Really?" she smiled happily, jumping off the couch and bouncing towards the door. "Nancy," she asked suddenly, all thoughts of performing magic tricks on her doll gone as she stopped and turned around to face her. "Can you bring me down to the water later, like last time?"

"Of course I can," Nancy reassured Rebecca, her heart melting a little as she was rewarded by a bright, toothy grin.

It had only been two weeks but Nancy was surprised by how seamlessly she had slotted into the routine of family life. Mornings were perfect chaos; cartoons blaring on the television while milk and cereal would inevitably dribble all over Rebecca's clean clothes. Bedtime was challenging at best, Rebecca deliberating noisily over pajama choices and demanding more and longer stories, stealing out of her bed for glasses of milk, anything to escape the monotony of sleep. But, Nancy had to admit, she enjoyed it. It was lovely to feel needed or wanted as more than someone it was convenient to go home to after a hard day's work. Aaron had loved her but she had never felt truly secure in the relationship, certain that at a moment's notice he could go back to his wife and his child and resume his former life. But with Ned it was different, and every time Rebecca begged her to play with her or grasped her hand in hers, Nancy felt something that she never thought she had in her.

Outside, the sky was a series of turquoises and blues, daubed lightly by swirls of white. Bundled into a purple coat, a vast scarf wrapped around her neck and almost completely covering her tiny face, Rebecca clung onto Nancy's hand tightly, stamping her footprints happily onto the wet, waterlogged sand.

"Can we go swimming?" she demanded hopefully, pulling the bulky scarf away from her mouth as she jumped up and down impatiently, her brown curls bouncing in unison. "Please, Nancy, please. I won't tell Daddy," she tried with a pleading expression and Nancy had to smile at the little girl's admirable insistence to ignore the blatantly freezing temperatures. "I even wore my Dora swimming suit under my clothes."

"It's too cold, Rebecca," Nancy informed her apologetically, bending down and kneeling in front of her. "You might get sick and then your daddy would get really mad at me,"

"Really," she asked with carefully widened eyes.

"Really," Nancy answered solemnly, reaching out and tugging up the zipper on Rebecca's coat a little higher, feeling the icy sting of the wind whip around her face. "Now you don't want that, do you?"

"No," she replied with a furious shake of her head, brown curls spilling out of the tight confines of her hat and around her face.

"Tell you what, you can take off your shoes and go paddling in the water," Nancy finally relented, smiling as Rebecca pulled off her shoes and socks impatiently and then ran into the water, the foam pooling around her childishly plump toes.

"It's so cold," she exclaimed delightedly, experimentally dipping her toes into the icy water before running back.

Several splashes later and a sand castle built with a feather stuck in it as a flag, the first patter of rain started to trickle from the sky and Nancy declared it was time for them to go home.

"We're back, Daddy," Rebecca announced brightly, running immediately up the stairs to change her clothes, a trail of sandy footprints marking the floor behind her.

His sleeves rolled up, Ned was intently dicing up carrots and onions in the kitchen, his hand reaching out intermittently to stir the sauce. Looking up, he smiled when he saw Nancy shrug wearily out her navy-blue coat, her red-gold hair spilling untidily around her shoulders. "You two have fun?"

"Yeah," she replied softly, wandering beside him and kissing him softly. "Rebecca's such a sweet girl and so smart too," she added, smiling as Ned spooned some of the hot chili sauce into her mouth. "She almost had me convinced to let her go swimming."

Moving the gently bubbling sauce off the heat, Ned glanced at her with suddenly tender eyes and wrapped his arms around her waist. "She likes you. You're good with her," he shrugged, his fingertips soft against her skin.

"You sound surprised," Nancy returned, a slight smile on her lips.

"Well, in all the years we dated, you never struck me as a very maternal person, Nancy," he admitted. "But I don't know, you've changed. You seem more settled somehow, more willing to give things between us a chance. Don't worry, that's a good thing," he assured her, seeing the sudden uncertainty crossing her face.

"It wasn't easy having me as a girlfriend, was it?" Nancy reflected despondently, sighing as she rested her head on Ned's shoulder.

"Nancy, I wouldn't take back those years we shared for anything," he murmured softly, taking her hand in his and pressing it to his lips. "We had so much fun together and I was so much in love with you. I still am," he admitted after a pause, taking her in his arms and kissing her softly, happy tears forming in her eyes at the depth of emotion in his voice.

"I am still completely and hopelessly in love with you too, Ned Nickerson," Nancy smiled happily, returning his kisses forcefully, Ned taking the opportunity to back her against her wall, his hands snaking under her sweater, his fingers cool against her bare skin.

Suddenly remembering herself, Nancy pulled away, tugging down her sweater. "Rebecca," she reminded him apologetically, smoothing a hand over her now disheveled hair. "Knowing her, she'll be down the second you even consider examining what sort of underwear I put on especially for you today,"

"Now you're just teasing me," he protested, laughing, pulling her close and jokingly trying to pull her sweater off.

"Who said anything about teasing?" Nancy shot back flirtily, giving Ned a pointed look. "It just so happens that I have a particularly cute pink bra on today. Now you'll just have to wait until later to get a visual."

"Finding Nemo," Ned uttered, the look of sudden decisiveness on his face utterly comic. "She loves that movie. Maybe if I put it on for her now we might get some alone time for ourselves and we can continue this upstairs," he murmured longingly, leaning in and trailing kisses down her neck.

"Later, I promise," Nancy whispered enticingly, pulling his face down to hers for a final kiss. "And if you're especially nice, I might even have a surprise for you."

The day's exertions had evidently wore Rebecca out because she had been unusually cooperative, tidying up her toys and putting on her Dora pajamas without a fight. Ned's voice drifted down the stairs as he softly read a story to his daughter, the little girl interjecting occasionally with a question. It seemed for tonight, at least, Ned was getting off easy. Rebecca was demanding at bedtime, Ned's patience usually stretched to the limit by the third or sometimes fourth princess related story.

Sitting tense and rigid on the couch in the living room, Nancy stared blankly at the mindless rubbish that was showing on the television, her fingers closing around the hard plastic of the cell phone that was in her pocket. Every night without fail, she would telephone her contact in the FBI and every night the conversation always ended in the same way, leaving Nancy depressed and overwhelmed with a sense of hopelessness that Smith would never be caught and she would be forced to remain forever in this limbo. Though she loved Ned and Rebecca and loved the life they were slowly etching out together, detecting was like breathing to her and Nancy felt slightly lost without her FBI work. Staring at the phone, she knew the act was illogical; the FBI would be in immediate contact with her if they had even so much as an inkling of a lead. Even so, she couldn't stop herself from picking up the phone every night and dialing the same number, knowing she would receive the same half-hearted responses and empty promises that she had received every night before that.

Tonight, she determined, things would be different.

"Hi Dad," she greeted him brightly, feeling infinitely better on hearing her father's calming voice. "How are things at home?"

Nancy knew Carson was deeply worried about her and the fact he wasn't privy to the details of her location only made things worse. At the hospital, she had reassured him a thousand times she would be fine, that the doctors had said her injuries were healing well, that all this would soon be over and she'd go home to River Heights for a long visit, but he had remained unconvinced, making her swear to call him at least once a week.

"Things here are fine, honey. Jennifer sends her love," he replied dismissively and at once Nancy could hear the worry and impatience in his voice. "More importantly, how are you?"

"I'm doing much better, Dad," she reassured him lightly, stretching out on the couch, wincing as the sudden motion caused her side to sting horribly. "The stitches are coming out in another couple of days and then hopefully, I'll be totally back to normal."

"Be careful not to push yourself, or you'll be right back in the hospital, Nancy," Carson added warningly and Nancy couldn't help rolling her eyes, knowing her father was only looking out for her, but hating how easily he could make her feel like she was five-years-old again.

"Dad, I'm fine," she insisted through gritted teeth, suddenly wondering why she had ever thought a phone call to her father was a more favorable alterative to another depressing conversation with the FBI. "Anyway, tell me, have any interesting cases crossed your desk since we've talked last?"

The conversation drifted then to more comfortable territory; Carson filling her in on the details of a tragic case of a woman he was defending who had been accused of drowning her own children.

"That is so, so sad," Nancy mused, winding a lock of hair thoughtfully around her finger.

"How are things going with Ned," her father suddenly threw out, catching Nancy completely off guard. They themselves were still only figuring out what their relationship meant and Nancy wasn't entirely comfortable discussing it with anyone else.

"Good," she replied evasively, hoping her father would refrain from probing too deeply. "We're taking it slow."

The pair chatted comfortably for a few more minutes before Nancy heard Ned quietly descend the narrow staircase, his footsteps deliberately quiet lest he waken his sleeping daughter.

"Dad, I've got to go," Nancy informed her father apologetically in a carefully hushed tone. "Ned has finally got Rebecca to go to sleep and believe me, that's no easy feat. I'll give you another call during the week, okay? Love you."

"Love you too," he replied warmly, before signing off. "Keep safe and I'll talk to you then."

As Nancy was sliding the cell phone shut, Ned slid down onto the sofa beside her, a wide smile on his face as he wrapped an arm lovingly around her shoulder. "Peace, finally," he uttered gratefully, before leaning in and kissing her gently. "Now what did you say earlier about some really cute underwear?" he murmured, pushing her onto the couch so she was lying on her back facing him.

"They're pink," she smiled teasingly, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him deeply.

"Anything else I should know," he whispered between kisses, struggling impatiently with her thick woolen sweater, gratified when he saw the tight blue camisole that lay underneath.

"Why don't you find out for yourself?" Nancy murmured seductively, reaching up and peeling of the silken material in one fluid moment.

Lying on the couch in her bra and jeans, staring at Ned, Nancy felt suddenly very vulnerable and unsure. Though she and Ned had shared a very close relationship, there were certain boundaries they hadn't dared cross and sex was certainly one of them.

Ned must have seen the hesitance it in her eyes and reached out and laid a hand gently on her cheek. "We don't have to do this right now, you know," he murmured in a hushed tone, pressing his lips softly to hers. "Although I really, really want to," he couldn't resist adding jokingly.

Warmed by his words and the tender familiarity of his touch, Nancy was surprised by how right it felt to be with Ned like this. Kneeling up, she kissed him softly before insistently unbuttoning his blue-and-grey shirt, her hand running appreciatively over his toned, tanned chest.

"Let's go upstairs," she finally whispered, gazing at Ned for a long minute before taking his hand in hers and guiding him off the couch.

The night was alive with the buzzing of insects and the gentle pull of the water creeping over the shore. Cool white sheets in a tangle over their skin, Nancy and Ned spoke in whispers, their fingers trailing wondrously over each other as though hardly able to believe what had just transpired.

"You know, when we were dating all those years ago, I always wondered what it would feel like to make love to you," she confided smiling, shifting onto her side and gazing at him softly, her hair falling over her shoulder and onto his skin, tickling him slightly.

"And?" he prompted her impatiently, reaching a hand out and tucking the stray hair behind her ear.

"What do you want me to say, Ned? That it was fantastic, brilliant, that it was the best sex I've ever had," she laughed, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically at him.

"Well yeah," he admitted, slightly deflated at her teasing tone.

Leaning in, Nancy placed her hand on his face and whispered softly in his ear. "It was amazing and perfect. Nobody has ever made me feel like that before. I love you, Ned," she sighed happily, leaning in and kissing him gently, Ned taking her in his arms and laying her back onto the bed, the night evaporating around them as he pressed his lips to hers again.

--

A soft thud sounded outside and Nancy's eyes fluttered slowly open, her mind heavy and dull with exhaustion. Outside, the moon was full in the sky, bathing the room in a blue-tinged light and beside her, Ned was sleeping peacefully, his arm thrown lazily over hers.

Maybe she was imagining things; but no, there it was again, the faint sound of metal against metal. Nancy had learned to trust her instincts, her years working in the FBI having finely tuned her senses.

"Ned," she hissed urgently, shaking him awake, pressing a finger in warning to her lips as he sleepily woke up, his brown eyes clouded in confusion.

"There's someone outside," she explained, trying to keep calm as she jumped out of bed and pulled a shirt over her pale, bare skin.

Kicking out of the bedclothes, Ned rushed to her side. "And what?" he demanded. "You think I'm just going to let you go out there alone? Are you kidding me? You're not strong enough," he rushed to explain, the frustration blatantly obvious on her face.

"Ned, I'm fine," she argued, fumbling in the bedside drawer for her gun.

"You're not and you know it," he sighed, running a hand shakily over his face. "Now give me the gun and go to Rebecca and don't come out, no matter what. Okay? Okay?" he demanded more insistently.

She looked like she was about to argue but then backed down with a sigh, slapping the gun down reluctantly onto Ned's open palm. "Be careful," she pleaded, holding him close for one last hug before slipping quietly out the door.


	9. Mayhem

Time seemed to stand still as Nancy watched Ned's retreating form disappear into the shadows, every part of her screaming that they were making a terrible mistake, that it should be her and not Ned that should face Smith in this terrible showdown.

The old Nancy would never have left something like this happen. She'd changed in the weeks she'd spent with Ned and Rebecca, become sloppy and careless, so preoccupied with her fledgling relationship with Ned that she'd completely left her guard down. She cursed Ned for seducing her, the end result meaning their only cell phone, their sole connection to the outside world and help, was left lying on the kitchen table; cursed the FBI for abandoning them here without protection; but most of all, cursed herself for having dragged Ned and Rebecca here. If something happened to either of them, Nancy knew she would never forgive herself.

Panicking, Nancy tried to convince herself that Ned would be okay, that he was strong, his time spent as star quarterback on both his high school and college teams still evident on his muscular body. And he was smart, his quick thinking having come to her rescue more than once, way back when she was an amateur detective and he her ever-faithful boyfriend. But Ned had no experience with firearms and that was worrying, and he certainly wasn't trained to deal with a situation like this. Worse still, he was emotional, and Nancy doubted Ned would have the rational, clear thinking necessary to get them out of this situation alive.

There was still time, Nancy told herself shakily, lingering restlessly at the door that opened into Rebecca's room. She could still stop Ned, could still take charge of the situation, regaining possession of her Glock and sending Ned into his daughter's bedroom instead. But the dull throb that relentlessly pounded in her shoulder served as a reminder of her still vulnerable state. It would take weeks of physical therapy before Nancy would be anywhere near prepared to deal with what was going to inevitably spiral into a violent confrontation. Ned was probably right, Nancy concluded miserably, as she slipped silently in Rebecca's room. The sight of the little girl snuggled contentedly under the blankets, her favorite Barbie doll clutched loosely in her arms, momentarily diminished the precariousness of the situation she and Ned had found themselves in.

Her cheeks flushed with sleep, Rebecca was adorable, and Nancy couldn't help but suppress a smile on spying her crowded bed. Unlike most children, Rebecca had no particular attachment to any doll or blanket, but she certainly compensated for that with her overwhelmingly vast stuffed toy collection that she insisted she sleep with every night. No toy was overlooked; even the grubbiest, worn raggedy creature was afforded a space in her pink princess bed. In an act of misguided fatherly duty, Ned had attempted to coax the girl into choosing a particular toy to sleep with, but to no avail; the toys reappeared mysteriously under the pink and purple Barbie bedspread by morning.

Rebecca had not quite outgrown the need for a nightlight, and so a pink lamp cast a narrow beam of light across the room as Nancy picked her way over a few discarded toys and storybooks, careful not to wake up the sleeping child. Rebecca was a lot of things but quiet was not one of them and asleep, the little girl would be easier to deal with, would be easier to remove from a situation if the need arose. Seeing the child shift slightly in the bed before gradually succumbing to a relaxed slumber, Nancy breathed a sigh of relief, not missing the way Rebecca unconsciously clutched her Barbie doll closer to her, as though sensing that everything was not all right.

Pushing aside a mountain of stuffed toys, Nancy sat stiffly on the edge of a pink and purple striped armchair in the corner of the room, too highly strung and too worried about Ned to let her guard down even for a minute. Her heart pounding in her chest, Nancy strained to listen, desperate to grasp any hint of what was unfolding downstairs but there was nothing, the answering silence deafening.

_It might not even be him_, Nancy tried to reassure herself unconvincingly, wincing as the pain shooting through her shoulder had graduated from a previous dull ache to a now full-blown torturous hell exploding throughout her chest. Her nocturnal activities with Ned had been distracting to say the least and swallowing her pain medication had been the last thing on her mind. Nancy was now regretting that decision as another pain seared its knife-like vengeance into her chest.

_I could be worrying for nothing. It could just be an animal, a stray cat or a hungry dog,_ Nancy theorized before dismissing the idea as ridiculous. Denial was pointless; Brian Smith was down there and she knew it and Nancy felt suddenly hugely conflicted as her gaze darted between Ned's sleeping daughter and the uncertainty that was facing him downstairs.

_I promised Ned I would stay with Rebecca_ _and_ _he will never forgive me if I leave her alone and something happens to her,_ Nancy convinced herself as she glanced over at the little girl, a few unlucky members of the stuffed toy collection that had been tucked carefully under the sheet now finding themselves tossed unwittingly to the floor as Rebecca turned noisily in her bed. Ned was right; she couldn't leave Rebecca alone. Brian had already proven himself to be a heartless man and Nancy couldn't imagine leaving the little girl at his mercy. Her decision made, Nancy fidgeted uneasily at Rebecca's bedside, her chest almost bursting in anticipation as she awaited the consequences of her and Ned's decision. She could only hope they had made the right one.

A loud crash of glass shattered the silence and Nancy's heart froze in sudden fear. She could hear a scuffle, muffled voices, the sound of furniture scraping noisily over the hardwood floors, and it was a miracle that Rebecca hadn't woken up yet, her brown eyes tearful and scared, pleading for some understanding as to what nightmarish scene was transpiring downstairs.

In a strange way the sounds comforted Nancy in a way the silence had not. At least now she had some idea of what was going on. She could hear Ned's voice and that was comforting. She knew he was okay, that he was alive and most importantly he had her gun. But there was a lot Nancy didn't know and that was worrying. Brian was also most likely armed and from her extensive research into his past, Nancy knew he was far more adept with a gun than Ned, his vast firearm collection one of his most prized possessions.

A loud roar rose from downstairs, something heavy smashed onto the floor and Rebecca was suddenly awake, her brown eyes wide with shock as though she wasn't quite sure if what she was hearing was real or if she was still asleep, locked in some terrifying nightmare. Sitting up shakily in the bed, Rebecca grabbed a teddy bear and held him close, the child seeking much needed comfort from the familiarity of the stuffed toy.

"What's happening?" she asked sleepily, the confusion unmistakable on her face as she pushed a tangle of curls out of her eyes. "Where's all the banging coming from and where's my daddy?" she demanded, increasing her hold on the teddy bear as she suddenly became aware of her father's absence.

"He'll be up in a minute," Nancy promised, quickly grabbing the child's much treasured princess book, and displayed the book to Rebecca with an enticing smile, hoping to distract her with a favorite story. "He's finishing up a few things for work," she continued, an overly bright expression on her face as she sank down onto the bed beside Rebecca and flicked through the pastel colored pages until she reached a story about a lost princess which she knew to be Rebecca's current favorite.

"Okay," she replied uncertainly, the expression on her face clearly demonstrating she wasn't entirely satisfied with Nancy's explanation, but she settled against the pillows nonetheless, her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth as she listened attentively to the opening page of the book. An amazing feat, considering Rebecca had heard the same words read to her at least thirty times before and could probably have echoed them along with Nancy, she was so familiar with the story.

"The princess suddenly discovered she was lost in the enchanted forest and she began to cry," Nancy read, Rebecca looking suitably distressed as she listened to the predicament of the golden haired princess.

"Why is she crying?" she wondered aloud, her thumb getting a temporary reprieve as she glanced up thoughtfully at Nancy. "Princesses don't cry."

"I guess she's scared," Nancy replied, wincing as a loud blow reverberated from downstairs and something heavy came crashing to the floor, the shatter of glass telling Nancy it was most likely the television. "You wouldn't like to be lost in a place all by yourself, now would you?" Nancy asked, expecting tears and fearful screams, but was surprised when Rebecca's strongest reaction was to merely glance fearfully at the door before edging closer to Nancy, her blanket pulled up firmly under her chin.

"No," she agreed shakily, her brown eyes urging Nancy to continue with the story and get to her favorite part, which was the typical happy climax of a fairytale where the princess finds her way home and her overjoyed family welcomes her back with a party and they all live happily ever after. "I love Princess Leah's dress," she sighed, running her finger absently over the pink glittery ball gown, the girl distracted momentarily at least by the bright shimmering picture of the princess at the end of the story. "When I'm big, I am going to wear a dress like that."

"You will look beautiful, just like Princess Leah," Nancy declared solemnly, closing the book and panicking inwardly at what she could do to divert Rebecca's attention next. There was no disguising that the noise raging from downstairs was growing more violent by the second. Nancy could hear a heavy echoing clang and she was surprised that any window was left intact as yet another shower of glass hailed onto the floor. Voices once muffled now gave way to curses and shouts and the more the violence escalated, the more worried and panicked Nancy grew about Ned's safety and she had to resist every urge inside of her to go out and join him in the struggle.

Unarmed, Nancy knew she would it would be a stupid move, that she would be an easy target if she got on the wrong side of Brian's gun. But Nancy also knew that Ned would do anything to protect his daughter and the closer the violence came, the more the risk increased that Ned would act irrationally in an attempt to ensure the safety of his daughter, and Brian would enact his final revenge, leaving Ned drowning in a pool of his blood before forcing his way into Rebecca's room and finishing the job.

No fairytales of princesses or mermaids living in candy-colored castles were going to detract Rebecca from the horror outside. But Nancy persevered, the mere action of reading through the words providing her with a much-needed distraction from the disturbing mental images that were flashing uncontrollably through her mind.

Withdrawing her thumb from her mouth, Rebecca slipped her hand into Nancy's hand and held onto it with a vice like grip, her free hand clutching onto her stuffed bear with a similar desperation.

"I'm scared, Nancy," she admitted tearfully, her eyes wide with fear as she struggled to listen to the story and block out the terrifying noises from outside. "What's happening outside and why is my Daddy shouting?"

"Don't worry, Rebecca, everything will be fine. Your daddy will be up in a minute," she murmured reassuringly, not sure why she bothered, knowing the little girl would see straight through the lie. Sniffling slightly, Rebecca settled back against Nancy and listened fretfully to the story of Simba and all his adventures in the Pride Lands with Nala.

"They shouldn't go to that elephant graveyard," Rebecca sighed knowingly, her attention commanded momentarily as Nancy read about the lion cubs' dangerous adventure. "It sounds really scary."

As the story progressed to sneering hyenas emerging from towering bones, and surrounding the helpless cubs, Rebecca screamed suddenly, her chilling cries filling the air. But her screams had nothing to do with the story. From outside the door, there was an enraged cry and a quick scuffle, before the night was punctuated by the sound of gunfire and then there was nothing, just an echoing silence filling the air.

Rebecca was screaming, clinging, her small hands grabbing onto Nancy and holding on tight. Nancy felt like she was going to be sick, her feelings horribly conflicted between wanting to know what had happened outside and at the same time terrified of what she would find.

She wanted to call out Ned's name, scream until she heard his voice, but she had Rebecca to consider and the child was already terrified, cowering into her pillow, and Nancy didn't want to risk upsetting her further.

"Rebecca, I need to go downstairs and check what's going on, okay?" Nancy told the little girl softly, struggling to keep the panic and fear out of her voice. "I promise I will be back in a minute."

Tightening her grip on Nancy's hand, Rebecca shook her head furiously in response, her wails growing in intensity as Nancy attempted to gently detach herself from the little girl. "Don't leave me, Nancy," she pleaded tearfully, "I'm scared. I don't want to be left here all on my own.

"I don't want you to go," she protested, her voice choked with tears as she kicked her way out of the covering of blankets, "Why can't I come with you? I'm scared of being on my own."

Though Nancy sympathized with Rebecca, she had to find out if Ned was okay. The silence outside was worrying. He could be hurt, bleeding or worse, Nancy choosing not to focus on that possibility for too long. Rebecca wasn't calming down, if anything her wails were only intensifying, but Nancy couldn't afford to placate the little girl any further and though she knew it was cruel, she issued a stern warning to Rebecca to stay in her bed and not under any circumstances to leave her room and then stepped out onto the landing quietly, closing the door firmly behind her.

Rebecca's cries muted by the closed door of her bedroom, the house was now eerily quiet, the dimmed lights and shadowy darkness only adding to Nancy's sense of unease. Creeping softly along the landing, her heart thumped in her chest, unsure of what every step would bring, what she could stumble upon.

Her first steps down the staircase introduced Nancy to the chaos downstairs, the single remaining unbroken lamp illuminating the violence with horrific clarity. Windows were smashed, an icy wind whistling menacingly through the jagged slices of glass. Furniture lay overturned, legs of chairs cracked and a vase of flowers knocked carelessly to the ground, the scattered shards of glass glistening among crushed purple petals.

Steps that had started out as being careful and hesitant turned suddenly frantic when Nancy saw the blood, the red smears trailing a sickening path into the kitchen.

"Ned," she screamed in horror, unable to stop her brain conjuring all sorts of nightmarish scenarios as she feverishly tore around fallen furniture and crunched over broken glass. "Ned," she screamed even louder, needing immediate confirmation that he was okay, and the two seconds it would take to run into the kitchen would be unbearably long.

Nancy saw Brian first. Lying on his back, his open staring eyes gazed vacantly at the ceiling, a band of vivid red streaming from his mouth and pooling rapidly around his head. A knife lay by his side, his limp, lifeless hand still maintaining a weak grip on the handle, the sight making the man look menacing even in death. His blood made a shocking display against the stark white of the wall, the red splatter trailing grotesquely down the paint and onto the floor.

Seeing him lying there, Nancy felt nothing and coldly stepped over his body to rush over to Ned's side, shocked by the sight in front of her.

Slumped miserably against the wall, Ned was alive, barely. He was semi-conscious, his eyes focusing vaguely on Nancy and mumbling nonsensically as Nancy dropped to her knees beside him.

"Ned, can you hear me?" she pleaded, desperate with worry and fear as she took in his blood-drenched shirt, the sticky red clinging miserably to his chest. She knew the question was ridiculous, that Ned was anything but okay and his garbled, mumbled reply only confirmed that fact.

At least he was alive, Nancy told herself grimly, as she hunted frantically for the cell phone and on retrieval rapidly punched in 911.

"There's been a stabbing," Nancy informed the operator urgently, barely comprehending her rapid-fire questioning, her focus resting solely on Ned. "We need an ambulance to be sent immediately. He's lost a lot of blood."

Nancy was just about to hang-up when she remembered Brian's bloodied remains sprawled out mere feet away from her. "We need someone from the coroner's office as well," she added as an afterthought, kneeling down beside Ned and placed her hand gently against his cheek, the grey pallor of his skin only deepening her worry. "There's been another man shot in the head. His name is Brian Smith and he's wanted on at least one count of murder. You might inform the detectives of his identity so they know what to expect when they get here. "

"And this man is definitely dead?" the operator clarified matter-of-factly, her jaded tone indicating she had dealt with more of these shocking calls than she'd like to remember. "Have you checked for a pulse?"

"Believe me, there's no pulse," Nancy replied with a sigh as she gazed for a moment at the bloodied remains, the contents of his head oozing out slowly onto the floor, before turning away in disgust.

Banging down the phone, Nancy alternating between checking on Ned, keeping a close eye on his vital signs and pacing the kitchen anxiously, the time spent waiting for the ambulance to arrive crawling along. At the first flash of blue, Nancy was up on her feet and running outside to meet them.

She could only pray they were not too late.


	10. Haunted

Her feet crunching noisily through the gravel, Nancy nearly collided with Rebecca's pink tricycle in her desperation to reach the ambulance. The night was frosty cold; Nancy's breath was suspended in a swirling white fog as she raced towards the screaming ambulances, their blue flashing lights filling the night sky.

"Could you show us where the victim is, ma'am?" a dark-haired paramedic demanded brusquely, two broad shouldered men following frantically in his wake, a gurney rattling behind them.

"The kitchen," Nancy managed with difficulty, her voice swallowed by the horror she was so suddenly submerged in. "It's through here," she directed urgently, beckoning the men to follow her into the blood-strewn room.

Suffering and carnage were typical trademarks of a paramedic's job, but even they were unable to disguise the horror on their faces as they were forced to step over the gruesome remains of Brian Smith. Blood had steadily pooled out from the gaping wound on his head and was now trailing in shimmering rivers of red across the tiled floor, but Nancy hardly saw it, such was her fear for Ned.

Ned was slumped against the wall, the blood spreading over his white shirt with frightening ferocity. His face was deathly pale and if not for the hesitant rise and fall of his chest, Nancy would have believed him to be dead. Gazing stricken at Ned, Nancy searched desperately for reassurance that despite all the evidence, his blood-drenched appearance and the sickly-grey pallor of his skin, that he was okay.

"He is going to be okay, isn't he?" she demanded of the team of men who were struggling to stem the seemingly never ending flow of blood. Nancy had seen Ned in some terrible states, the time he had been involved in a hit and run during one of her cases springing particularly to mind, but there had been nothing like this.

"He's going to be okay, though?" she tried again, this time a little more hesitantly, as though terrified of how they might respond. The answering silence spoke volumes, though, and Nancy felt sick at the thought of what that might imply.

Time seemed to hold no relevance or meaning after that. Questions were fired at Nancy with increasingly intensity about Ned's medical history and his blood type before she was led away from the scene by a kind-faced police officer, her blonde hair twined in a severe plait around her head. Looking up, Nancy saw in shock that the room was swarming with FBI and police personnel. _My God, she hadn't even noticed them coming in. _

Feeling nauseated and distracted by thoughts of Ned, Nancy could barely focus on what the police officer was evidently trying to say to her.

"What?" she demanded, confused, her gaze focused solely on the sight of the paramedics still working furiously on Ned.

"Agent Drew, I'm Officer Weaver and I need to check if you require any medical attention," the woman repeated in concern, gesturing firmly at Nancy to take a seat at the table.

Sitting down reluctantly on the cushioned chair, Nancy stared at the woman nonsensically, not understanding the relevance of her question until she caught sight of her bloodied reflection in the mirror. The white tank top she was wearing was stained a deep crimson and daubs of blood smeared her pale skin.

"I'm fine," Nancy reassured the police officer, desperate to get back to Ned. "I was upstairs when this all happened with Ned's daughter. Shit, Rebecca," she suddenly remembered, pulling away from the woman and heading in the direction of the stairs. With all the commotion and her worry and fear for Ned, Nancy hadn't given any thought to the little girl. She would be terrified, Nancy realized, guilt stricken, remembering the look of abject horror in Rebecca's brown eyes when Nancy had been forced to leave her on her own to check on Ned.

"Rebecca is okay," Officer Weaver spoke reassuringly from behind her, allowing Nancy to breath a small sigh of relief. "She's upstairs with two of your colleagues, an Agent Thomas and an Agent Carr, I believe, and she's busy packing a bag to take with her to her grandparents." _Aaron, _Nancy realized gratefully, thinking fondly of her ex-lover_. He'd know what to do. _

"You've been in contact with the Nickersons?" Nancy demanded, unable to imagine the hell Edith and James must have gone through, not being able to see their son or granddaughter in weeks and now having to be told such horrendous news by a complete stranger.

"We have," Officer Weaver confirmed grimly. "But I believe they're currently on their way to the hospital. Rebecca's maternal grandparents who have agreed to take her for the time being."

Nodding her understanding, Nancy stood up from the chair, desperate to resume her former position by Ned's side, but was intercepted by a familiar figure marching towards her, concern shining in his blue eyes. "Nancy, I'm so sorry," he began, and Nancy launched herself immediately into his arms, needing the support he was offering.

"Aaron, he'll be okay, won't he?" Nancy pleaded fearfully, unable to drag her eyes away from the sight of Ned being loaded onto the gurney, an oxygen mask clamped over his face. "They won't tell me anything and I'm going out of my mind."

"He's strong, Nancy," Aaron replied helplessly, his attempts at being reassuring completely failing. "And he's got youth on his side. I don't know what else to say," he finished weakly. Gazing over at Ned, Nancy suddenly read the situation through Aaron's FBI trained eyes. The floor where he'd lain was almost completely saturated with blood, Ned's blood, and he was so still, completely unresponsive to the prodding and probing he was being subjected to.

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Nancy whipped immediately around to find a relatively young police officer staring at her urgently. "The paramedics are ready to take Mr. Nickerson in, if you wish to accompany him."

Pulling away from Aaron, Nancy forced a grateful smile before racing desperately to Ned's side.

--

Sinking into the hard plastic chair, Nancy squeezed her hand so tightly with nervousness that her nails dug painfully into her skin. The waiting room was infuriatingly hot and noisy; the sight of a younger, blonder girl wailing inconsolably into the shoulder of her similarly distressed male friend only added to Nancy's sense of unease. A clock ticked menacingly from the corner of the room, each minute counted down with excruciating deliberation. _Where the hell was the doctor? _Nancy wondered frantically, whipping around expectantly at every tread of a footstep or creak of the door. A weary-eyed nurse, armed with only the vaguest of details, had been Nancy and the Nickersons' only source of news on Ned's condition. Distracted, she had insisted that a doctor would keep them informed of Ned's condition, but that had been almost an hour ago and Nancy had heard nothing since.

"What can be taking so long?" Edith exclaimed desperately, a cup of long-cold coffee still clutched tightly in her hand. "He's been in surgery for almost an hour now. Why can't anyone tell us something?"

Edith and James had been spared the torture of seeing their son lying bloodied and wounded on the cold kitchen floor, but in a way, this shielding from their son's condition only served to make them feel more helpless and desperate.

"Did the paramedics say anything to you, Nancy?" Edith demanded tearfully, her hands shaking as she finally set the styrofoam cup onto the streaked glass of the countertop.

"No," Nancy confirmed miserably, remembering Ned's frightening stillness as he lay slumped lifelessly in the kitchen. "They were busy trying to help Ned and I didn't want to get in the way." Nancy didn't bother adding that it had taken three paramedics just to stop the blood gushing uncontrollably onto the floor.

"Was he conscious?" James cut in, determined to glean even the barest insight into his son's condition, despite the hospital's insistence at keeping them in the dark.

Swallowing hard, Nancy determined it better to tell Edith and James the truth, regardless of the pain it would inevitably cause. "No," she admitted reluctantly, forcing her gaze to meet theirs.

A choked sob emerged from Edith's throat. "How bad was it, Nancy?" she pleaded, her hands clenched nervously on her lap. "They won't tell us anything other than he'd been stabbed."

"There was a lot of blood," Nancy revealed hesitantly, not wanting to worry the Nickersons further, but understanding their need to be kept in the loop. "He'd been stabbed in the chest. It looked bad."

A headache that had been throbbing steadily behind her eyes since the whole nightmare had begun had now exploded into a full blown torturous pounding in her head. Exhaling a ragged breath, Nancy felt increasingly dizzy and nauseous, closing her eyes in a bid to fight the growing nausea.

"Nancy, are you okay?"

Concerned voices echoed vaguely in the background but Nancy hardly heard them. Clamping a hand over her mouth, Nancy raced to the restrooms, reaching the toilet just in time and retching violently, the contents of her stomach spilling freely into the water.

--

"Mr. and Mrs. Nickerson? I'm Dr. Robson and I'm here to tell you about your son's condition."

At the sound of the doctor's voice, Edith, James and Nancy sprang up out of their chairs, their bodies rigid and tense as they waited for the doctor to begin. The fine lines etched on the doctor's face and the considerable expanse of grey among the otherwise dark hair spoke of the challenging nature of his job. Dark shadows were smudged under his eyes and it had obviously been a hectic night.

"Ned has had a very lucky escape," Dr. Robson spoke solemnly, shaking his head as he quickly scanned through the information posted on the clipboard on front of him. Edith sighed audibly in relief in that, her hand squeezing that of her husband in silent gratitude. "He's lost a lot of blood but the knife didn't pierce any of his vital organs so he's going to be okay. You're the person who found him?" he asked suddenly, directing his attention towards Nancy.

Nodding in reply, Nancy gazed expectantly at the doctor.

"You probably saved his life," Dr. Robson informed her gravely, clearing his throat before continuing. "Another five minutes and Ned would probably have bled to death."

"But he's going to be okay?" James demanded, needing to hear the doctor repeat his confirmation that Ned was going to be fine.

"Don't get me wrong," the doctor replied, gazing soberly at the trio standing in front of him. "Ned has suffered some very serious injuries and will need time to heal and recuperate. He will also be in significant pain for at least the next few weeks, if not months. But I expect Ned to recover fully, so yes, to answer your question, he's going to be fine."

"Can we see him?" Nancy cut in, suddenly desperate to see Ned after agonizing for so long over whether she'd ever see him alive again.

"He's still unconscious from the anesthetic but you may see him separately for ten minutes each. Ned needs his rest," the doctor informed them seriously, before beckoning them to follow him out onto the corridor. Edging between harassed looking nurses and patients being wheeled on trolleys, they were led to another room.

A platinum blonde nurse, her long hair tied up primly on her head, seemed to have taken control of the situation. Stripping latex gloves from her hands, she gazed at the group wearily. "I know you are all anxious to see Mr. Nickerson, but please try to keep the visit brief. He needs to rest."

"We understand," Edith agreed hastily, obviously desperate to see her son, but it was to Nancy she turned, gratitude in her eyes as she indicated towards the door. "You go first, Nancy. He needs to hear your voice."

"I couldn't," Nancy argued weakly, feeling guilty at the thought of dragging out the Nickersons already intolerably long wait to see their son any further. "You're Ned's parents. You should see him first."

"But you're the girl he loves, Nancy," Edith declared softly, giving her a gentle push towards the door. "Go on in. We'll wait out here."

His skin horribly pale and crisscrossed with a frightening display of tubes and wires, the doctor's assurances that Ned would be okay seemed suddenly very hollow as Nancy took a seat hesitantly beside him.

"I love you so much, Ned," Nancy murmured softly, reaching out and taking his hand in hers and holding it close to her. "I love being with you. I need you to better, Ned, and get out of here, so we can be together, you and Rebecca and me. I hate seeing you like this."

At that, Nancy's voice broke, her emotions finally overcoming her after the stress and worry of the previous hours. She did love Ned. She adored him and the horrible knowledge that she could have lost him was almost too much to bear.

"You don't have to worry about Smith anymore," Nancy continued shakily, swiping a hand impatiently over her damp cheeks. "We can get on with our lives knowing that bastard is gone."

The platinum-blonde nurse poked her head hesitantly into the room, a plastic apron tightly secured over her white uniform.

"I'm sorry, but the ten minutes are up and Mr. and Mrs. Nickerson are waiting to see their son."

Nodding her understanding, Nancy pressed her lips gently to Ned's. "I love you," she whispered softly, giving his hand a final, gentle squeeze before making for the door.

"Ned will have gained consciousness in a few hours and you will be able to spend more time with him then. For now, I suggest going home and getting some sleep."

"I should stay here," Nancy disagreed firmly, not liking the idea of leaving Ned for fear of something happening to him in her absence.

"There's no point," the nurse shrugged wearily, smoothing a hand over her neatly styled hair. "We'll call you if there's any change in Ned's condition but you should try to get some rest in the meantime."

Realizing that there was no point in arguing her case further, Nancy took one last look over her shoulder at Ned before stepping reluctantly out of the room.

--

The sun was just beginning to rise, the morning sky streaked with an explosion of fiery oranges and reds as Nancy pulled wearily into the driveway of her father's house. She couldn't face the thought of returning to that cold, lonely apartment on her own after the noisy, boisterous weeks she had spent with Ned and Rebecca. Carson Drew was already waiting impatiently for her at the door, as Nancy stepped wearily out of the car and stumbled towards the house.

"How is he?" Carson demanded immediately, before bundling his daughter in a warm hug.

"Ned is going to be okay," Nancy admitted with quiet relief as she rested her head comfortingly on her father's shoulder. "He's still unconscious but the nurse thinks he should come out of it in the next few hours and I can see him then. She wouldn't let me stay with him," she revealed darkly and her father chuckled bemused at the expression on her face.

"And you actually listened to her?" Carson declared with false incredulity, accustomed to his daughter's headstrong ways that were so like his own.

The welcoming smell of coffee drifted from the kitchen and Nancy's stomach grumbled in anticipation of some food.

"Come on, let's get you something to eat," her father declared knowingly, pushing the door closed behind them and leading Nancy into the kitchen.

Her hands wrapped gratefully around the mug of steaming coffee, Nancy had to smile, seeing her father expertly set about whipping some eggs for his famous French toast.

"My favorite," she sighed happily, stirring some sugar into her coffee before taking a hesitant sip of the steaming liquid.

"Anything for my girl," he murmured affectionately, pouring the eggs with a hiss into the pan before regarding his daughter softly. "I've been so worried about you, Nan," Carson revealed in a more somber tone, replacing the spatula momentarily on the counter as he turned to Nancy. "How have you been?"

"I've been better," Nancy admitted with a weary shrug, taking a delicate sip from her coffee. "Seeing Ned like that was hard."

"And your injury?" Carson demanded worriedly, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"It's fine," Nancy shrugged dismissively, absently picking at the chunk of blueberry muffin on her plate. "The stitches are meant to come out in the next few days and then I'll be as good as new."

Sliding the plate of still bubbling French toast in front of his daughter, Carson's expression turned suddenly serious as he took a seat beside her at the table. "Nan, what the hell happened last night?" he inquired delicately, not wanting to risk upsetting his daughter further.

Placing her fork resignedly on the table, Nancy sighed unhappily before forcing her gaze to meet that of her father. Just thinking of the night roused memories of Rebecca's panicked sobs and the sounds of the unthinkable violence that had transpired downstairs. But her father wouldn't be the only person who would be interested in hearing every minute detail of the terrifying events of the night. The police had already spoken to her at the scene, though Nancy hardly remembered the conversation and the FBI would of course be interested. Nancy was already weary at the thought of the hours of interrogation and paper work she would be subjected to, in the interests of satisfying FBI protocol.

Sitting back in her seat, Nancy took a deep breath, her hands knotted nervously on her lap. "To be honest, Dad, I'm not definitely sure. We were asleep, when I heard a noise so I gave Ned my gun. He told me to go stay with Rebecca."

Nancy's voice faltered at that but she continued nonetheless, determined to get the words out, as though in dragging out the story was just prolonging the agony of reliving it.

"The next thing I hear is a scuffle, some furniture being broken, a window," Nancy shrugged uncertainly, taking a distracted sip from her coffee. "It was hard to distinguish what the sounds were exactly, with the bedroom door closed and of course, I was distracted with trying to keep Rebecca quiet."

"What happened then?" Carson urged her gently, sensing her reluctance to continue.

"There was a gunshot. Rebecca started screaming. I ran down the stairs and that's when I found him."

"You found who?" her father prompted her

"Ned," Nancy replied in exasperation, feeling inexplicably under attack. Carson Drew hadn't earned his reputation as a formidable defense attorney for nothing but at this moment she just needed him to be her dad. "He was bleeding heavily from his chest and that's when I called 911."

"Where was Smith?"

"He was lying on the ground, dead," she replied dully, a violent pounding starting to throb painfully in her head.

"Did you check for a pulse?" he inquired matter-of-factly, taking a much needed drink from his cup of coffee.

"There was no need," Nancy shrugged resignedly, trying to ignore the pain that was permeating through her skull. "Most of his brains were splattered across the walls when I arrived on the scene. There was no question that Smith was dead."

Nancy knew why her father was doing this. Over the coming weeks, she was sure she would be interrogated by at least a dozen separate FBI officials all wanting to know specific details and facts and he was just preparing her for that. But the hint of doubt in his voice hurt her all the same, though she knew that was not Carson's intention.

"Where was your gun?"

"It was on the floor," Nancy replied hesitantly, her face frozen in concentration as her mind groped back to the initial heart-stopping seconds when she'd stumbled upon the scene of utter carnage in the kitchen.

"Beside Ned?" Carson attempted to clarify as he gazed at his daughter carefully.

"I can't remember," Nancy admitted, her face crumpling, hating that she couldn't be clearer on the details of the crime scene. It was her job for Christ's sake and she felt like an utter failure having to admit as such to her father. It was unimaginable, what the FBI would think of the situation. Agents were recruited for their level clear headedness, not this bumbling wreck Nancy was certain she'd be perceived as unable to recall even the simplest of details about the previous night.

Noticing his daughter's distressed state, Carson decided it best to cut short this particular line of questioning until Nancy had at least slept and could think more clearly. "I think that's enough for now, Nan," he declared in a softer tone, setting about clearing the mostly untouched breakfast dishes from the table. "You look exhausted. Go get some sleep and we can talk about this later."

Relieved, Nancy could only muster a tired smile, already anticipating whatever few hours sleep she could manage to grab. "Thanks, Dad," she mumbled wearily, smothering a yawn in the palm of her hand before hastening towards the door.

"It'll all be okay, you know?" he promised her brightly, hastily.

"If you say so, Dad," Nancy smiled halfheartedly, her tone doubtful as she trudged up the stairs.


End file.
